


Exquisite Drabbles

by Lilviscious



Series: Exquisite [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bat Brothers, Drabble Collection, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Open to prompts/requests, Romance, Smut, badthingshappenbingo, batfam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2019-06-28 06:42:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 62,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15701916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilviscious/pseuds/Lilviscious
Summary: Shorter pieces of Dick/Jason/Tim/Damian within my Exquisite storyline. Glimpses of their co-existence as an intimate group.





	1. Index

**Author's Note:**

> Rating varies per chapter, but is set highest for obvious reasons.
> 
> Chapters will feature two or more Robins and will be indicated as such (e.g. DickJay or DickTimDami, etc). However, they will always be within the relationship of the four of them unless stated differently.
> 
> Chapters will also have their own summary and tags in the notes at the beginning of each drabble. Be certain to read them and not get surprised by anything you might find unsettling.
> 
> Read drabbles or read those with your prefered pairing. Use the list down below for easy navigation.
> 
> Any requests are welcome in the comment section below. I'd love to hear your interpretations and inquiries!

**Chapter 01: Index**

Chapter 02: I Got You - JayDami within DickJayTimDami [T]
Chapter 03: Who Is In control? - JayDami within DickJayTimDami feat. Dick and Tim [T]
Chapter 04: Hyperfocus - DickJayTimDami [E]
Chapter 05: The Little Things - DickJayTimDami [G]
Chapter 06: Grabbed by the chin - DickJayTimDami [T]
Chapter 07: I Have Your Loved One - DickJayTimDami with implied Ra'sTim [T]
Chapter 08: Accidentally Hurt By Friend - DickJayTimDami featuring Jon and Kon [M]
Chapter 09: Hurts to Breate - DickJayTimDami, Tim centric [T]
Chapter 10: Gunshot Wound - DickJayTimDami, Jay centric [M]
Chapter 11: Stolen Identity - DickJay within DickJayTimDami [M]
Chapter 12: Flashbacks - JayDami within DickJayTimDami [M]
Chpater 13: Buried in rubble - DickJayTimDami featuring Wally [T]
Chapter 14: This is for your own good - DickTim within DickJayTimDami [E]
Chapter 15: Gaslighting - DickJayTimDami, Tim centric [T]
Chapter 16: Face down - DickJayTimDami [G]
Chapter 17: Bound and gagged - DickJayTimDami with implied Sladin and Ra'sTim [T]
Chapter 18: Blood stained clothes - JayDami within DickJayTimDami [M] (1/4)
Chapter 19: Blood from the mouth - DickJayTimDami [M] (2/4)
Chapter 20: Isolation - DickJayTimDami [E] (3/4)
Chapter 21: Biting - DickJayTimDami with flashback to DickJayTim pre-DickJayTimDami [E] (4/4)
Chapter 22: Scream all you want - DickJayTimDami [T] with implied Ra'sTim
Chapter 23: Chained to a wall - DickJay pre-DickJayTimDami [E] with Sladin
Chapter 24: Knife to the Throat - JayDami within DickJayTimDami [T]
Chapter 25: Blackmail - DickJay Pre-DickJayTimDami [M] with Sladin
Chapter 26: Kick them while they're down - DickJayTimDami [M] with The Joker
Chapter 27: I will only slow you down - DickDami within DickJayTimDami [T]


This series will incorporate a fun prompt challenge called Bad Things Happen Bingo. This is the card I have been dealt:  


Current progress of the card (requests about these prompts are welcome!):  


Chapters that are part of the Bad Things Happen Bingo (marked red on the card):  


Chapter 06
Chapter 07
Chapter 08
Chapter 09
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27


Requested prompts on Bad Things Happen Bingo card (marked grey on the card):  


Compelling voice - DickJayTimDami with implied Ra’sTim
Slammed into a wall - TimDami within DickJayTimDami


This list does not show the order of posting. Whatever prompt is finished first will get posted. Sorry if this means a prompt is pushed back some time.

Want a say in what comes next and add some personal wishes to them?  
Check out the bingo card and leave a comment in the section below!


	2. I Got You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are times when they feel more connected, more intimate, alone and in the darkness of their minds.
> 
> Tag(s): Hurt/Comfort, mentioned Character death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is little intimacy between JayDami in the main Exquisite story, but that doesn't mean they are less fond of each other. It motivated me to write them a little something.
> 
> Inspired by the the song ‘[I Got You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lWhKd9IEU7Y)’ by Bebe Rexha

They weren't touchy feely with each other unless the need was mutual.

Their relationship might be considered least intimate by the other Robins, but Jason and Damian would disagree. Their mutual respect reflected the trust and ease with which they indulged in shared leisure. Often driven by adrenaline, rushes of pride and greed, Jason and Damian had clashed lips and teeth, hands taking and demanding of each other. Never too rough however. Every hiss or grunt was noted and analyzed, followed only by a confirmation of some sort. A curt nod, a light swipe of fingertips against skin, a tightening grip, an impatient roll of hips, begging lips and wanton moans. They understood when to challenge and when to surrender, when to just crash together on the bed in their shared safehouse and nudge at each other until they found a consensus on their sleeping arrangements.

Jason was Damian's most favored companion in bed when resting was the main activity. His older brother was big, still broader and taller than Damian himself and therefore a solid presence during his slumber to ground him. His brother was also familiar with sleepless nights filled with voices of the past calling out to his insecurities. Dick never stopped talking, reassuring them, and touching gently, carefully, but persistently as to remind them of where they truly were. Tim always provided them with water for parched throats, wet cloths to soothe angry red patches where they had clawed at their skin, and towels to wipe at sweaty foreheads, but usually remained apprehensive of lingering effects and thus was incapable of going back to sleep himself. They meant well, but only got a passing grade for trying because they visibly ached when awakened by them in the middle of the night.

Damian woke with a start and found his lungs without air. There was a sense of panic taking hold of him, his own voice begging inside his head: _no, not again_. He coughed dryly, rolling onto his back as sweat rolled down his temple. Kicking at the blankets, Damian grunted and felt bothered by the cotton twisting around his legs, confining and restricting him. The body next to him stirred, Jason's head looking over his shoulder toward him and one eye settling on the heaving man behind him. It's been only three hours since they returned from a particular long and exhausting night fighting Gotham crime and they needed their sleep. 

Jason fell asleep in his undershirt, boxers and one sock still on while Damian was in the shower, the younger not having bothered waking his brother and sliding into the bed alongside him with a heavy head. They were back to back at the start, face to neck an hour later and now Damian was on his back wondering if he could ever control the haunting side effects of escaping _hell_. 

Jason rolled onto his stomach, his massive arm coming down across Damian's chest without remorse, adding to the pressure in his chest. Damian grunted again, but clutched his biceps and felt the muscles underneath tense temporarily as Jason's hand squeezed his shoulder. Damian reminded himself he was not alone, not in that terrible place, and he was very much alive. His breathing gradually evened out, eyes closing in relief at the fleeing tremors in his body. Turning his head to the right he exhaled into Jason's face, that one eye still watching him closely and fluttering against the younger man's breathing. The hand on his shoulder patted him, releasing his hold and sliding along his skin to his neck and jaw. Knuckles rasped gently against his chin, nudging his face into his pillow as Jason stifled a yawn. 

"I got you, kid. Sleep some more," Jason murmured into the silence of the room and Damian believed him, felt like a child indeed despite his twenty-one years of life as he craned his neck until their noses were touching. He was grateful Jason never asked questions, for he wouldn't know how to answer them without falling apart.

Jason wouldn't inquire and wouldn't accept a thank you, not when he most likely would disturb Damian’s rest with his own nightmares next. Preferably not tonight also, both men thought to themselves as they settled back in comfortable silence. The night terrors remained, but distancing themselves from the lingering visions and sounds had become less difficult with an anchor to hold on to.


	3. Who Is In Control?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JayDami focus within a DickJayTimDami robinpile, a glimpse of the lingering Lazarus pit madness within Jason and Damian, even years after their resurrection. There was more however, more to fight within himself than even Jason can comprehend, beyond anyone's.
> 
> Tag(s): Hurt/Comfort, mentioned Character death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another glimpse at JayDami experiencing after effects of death. 
> 
> Inspired by the song '[Control](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=so8V5dAli-Q)' by Halsey

"Damn it, Jason, you could at least try not to hog the entire bed for once," Tim complained yanking one of the pillows from underneath Jason's massive build. The man huffed a little laugh, spread his limbs starfish style as Tim climbed in bed and on top of him to make a point. Unbothered by the lightest man in the room prodding a pillow on his head and getting comfortable on his body, Jason let out a grand fake snore.

Damian resumed folding his clothes and parts of uniform on the wooden dresser and rolled his eyes from the duo on their bed to their oldest who emerged naked from the bathroom drying his hair. "What did I tell you kids about sharing?" Dick said grinning and lifting one foot to push at Jason's torso, nimble toes tickling his ribs.

They were all children still. There had been moments in his life, a younger life, where he would have scolded them for it. Damian knew better now. They needed these moments of innocence, bickering, reliving times they all missed as they grew into their teens and young adult life. For whatever reason each, they missed out a lot.

Death took from them, personally. Dick’s laughter, Jason’s pride, Tim’s self-care and Damian’s sense of self. Always driven, always stubborn, always self sacrificing and always comparing themselves to others.

"Damian? Dami.. you're kind of freaking me out here," Dick said when they prepare for bed, and it's been a long time since it was all four of them, and Damian had his turn in the joined bathroom to brush his teeth, but couldn't lift his hand to his mouth, immobile and without blinking, couldn't break the stare in the mirror of his own enlarged eyes as he saw them and **beyond** them.

 _ **God damn right, you should be scared. You should be terrified**_ , a voice vicious and lighter than his own, but oddly familiar told him. Damian believed he recognized it, the intonations of his younger self. The words of a young lethal assassin boy meaner than demons and unperturbed by death itself. Not even the clutches of the devil could contain him. 

"You should be scared of me.." he breathed out as a cold grip takes his throat hostage. It wasn't said with the same vehement snark his younger self did to challenge those who were Robin before him. How he belittled Dick’s naïve view of the world, pushed Jason’s limits and fought Tim’s morals. The men who were his brothers, now his lovers, who he would kill and die for. There was no challenge in his voice now, only anxiety.

Because who was truly in control? If he was not, then who or _what_ was?

He felt like bursting. Out of his mind, out of his body and into something greater, something magnificent, something all-powerful. It frightened him that this opportunity was once something that he would have gladly embraced. At whatever cost, he would best them all and laugh about it.

His vision turned black quite suddenly. It shook him, pulled him from the voices living in his head, begging for attention. Calloused fingers, a cold broad palm that he could nearly match with his own. 

"You with us?" Jason asked him, pulling his back to his chest as he stole the younger man's sight, closing the portal in his eyes into the depths of darkness in his mind.

His toothbrush fell from his tightened grip into the sink. His breathing was irregular, chest heaving and falling as his lungs yearn for oxygen, more, _more_ , deeper breaths. The hand over his eyes retreated up onto his forehead and into his hair, brushing back his dark locks. Jason's blunt fingernails scratched over his scalp and clasped his nape, searched for his eyes in the mirror. He locked them in a steady gaze once Damian found his way back to him. To them.

Dick was slowly dripping on the bathroom tiles, the task of drying his body further forgotten and his towel slung over his shoulders. Tim was watching on from the doorway and pulled the towel from his brother’s frame as he took tentative steps towards them. He was deliberately louder than necessary, feet bare and smacking on the tiles to announce his approach. The expression on his face was that of a man in control and Damian envied him as he watched their smallest brother step in between him and Jason, and the sink through the reflection of the mirror. Their eyes met shortly, Tim’s blues confident and then gone, the towel draping over the piece of glass.

“What was that about being scared of you?” Tim asked as he turned and rested his lower back against the sink, hands grasping Damian’s face. “Because I’m not. None of us are.” So much control and confidence in such a little frame, Damian couldn’t deny his awe as Tim wiped at the wet corners of his eyes. 

Movement in the corner of their eyes indicate Dick found another towel to dry his body. Their oldest heaved a sigh, but a grateful smile fell upon them. He stepspedforward and wrapped the towel around his waist, one hand resting on Jason’s back and the other on Tim’s as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Damian’s temple. 

“Let’s go to bed.”


	4. Hyperfocus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you have to make compromises and sometimes you have to be persuaded to make them.

Hyperfocus. It was a blessing and a curse depending on the situation, time and place. The circumstances in which his intellect and determination combined refused anything that wasn't what his interest had settled on. It was also a neurobehavioral disorder Bruce had presumably diagnosed him with early on in his Robin days. They had discussed it, hadn't named it, but it was evident the family was aware. And they weren't always as fine with it as they pretended to be.

"Come to bed, Timmy, it's cold and late and I miss you." 

His older brother's plea disrupted the flow in Tim's typing. Eyes shifted sideways in expectation of the kind eyes and frowning lips that crept closer as Dick embraced him from behind.

Tim exhaled shortly. He shifted on his chair and resisted against the distraction that was his brother's affection.

"Not yet. I'm nearly finished though." 

"Hmm, just let me hold you a little." 

"Give me twenty minutes."

"Hmm."

He resumed his research on his laptop. A chin rested atop his head, a familiar and clear signal that if he wished to further his progression it wouldn't be without scrutiny. The weight atop his head and shoulders grounded him in reality and denied him his creative flow. Tim clenched his jaws as his irritation flared.

"Dick, _please_ ," he bounced the man off him and out of his personal space.

His brother's retreat back to the bedroom was without further protest and the lack thereof left a clenching in the pit of his stomach. He understood Dick's need for intimacy; they hadn't seen each other for nearly two weeks and had finally found time to be together. Tonight had been a promise of R&R, not research. If only Dick understood that Tim wanted it also, but there were more pressing matters that occupied his mind, and while he enjoyed the attention, he knew he had to get this out of his system first.

"Yer time's up, baby bird," a second distraction snuck up on him and was less likely to leave him be.

"This is important," Tim responded as a large hand appeared over his head and reached for the screen. 

Tension built as Tim countered Jason's attempt at closing his laptop, his smaller hand encirlcing the man's wrist only to have his arm janked away as a result. He could imagine the satisfied smirk on Jason's face as he watched the screen shut with the steady push of the man's hand. Automatic saving settings assured him he had only lost the last three words he had added. Tim felt irked nevertheless.

"Really, Jay?"

"Yeah, really."

The attempt to free his arm was futile. Jason wouldn't take no for an answer to the question that had all three of his lovers restless in the middle of the night.

"I thought you were asleep," Tim commented when another figure appeared in the corner of his eye. Damian stood with crossed arms, ruffled hair and was dressed in long sweats, observing Jason's comprehensive hold on Tim's hardware and appendage.

"You are correct to use _past tense_ ," the youngest adult in their relationship snarked. Their eyes held a non-verbal quarrel that Tim knew he wouldn't win. His attention shifted elsewhere in defeat. 

"I can't go to sleep, not yet." 

"Doesn't matter, just rest, and then sleep later," Jason reasoned and loosened his hold.

"You don't understand. I **can't** -."

"Because your mind is restless and the prospect of laying still for even a minute is enough to rattle you," Damian finished for him.

Tim's eyes narrowed in accusation. "Why force me if you know?"

"It's called _compromising_ , babe," Jason responded and rounded the chair to join Damian's side. "Gotham gets under my skin, yet here I am. Baby bat is needed back at the Titans in San Fran and big bird is expected to clock in at Blüdhaven PD first thing in the morning, yet here they are." He caressed the space between Damian's shoulders on his way back to the bedroom.

"It's not the same!" Tim called and stood from his chair in pursuit of Jason. He halted at Damian's side, reaching up to run a hand through his hair at the realistion that the man had succeeded in removing him from the desk and four steps closer to their final destination, the bedroom. Tim didn't appreciate the manipulation and settled his glare on their youngest who only huffed at the look.

"I woke to a needy, greedy Richard rubbing his nose in my face. If you are expecting actual peace and quiet in that bed, you are not as intelligent as I thought you to be."

Tim was left alone with a decision to make. His head turned in the direction of his laptop, mind reeling with inquiries and hypotheses. Compromising, Jason had called it. It genuinely wasn't the same, but he understood what was needed of him. It took him a full minute to convince himself.

He rubbed at his eyes in frustation, but couldn't deny the start of a smile on his lips as Dick called out his name in cheer when he entered their bedroom and found his three lovers anything but exhausted.

"Get your ass in here," Jason called with a broad grin, flinging back the covers in invitation and creating a tantalizing sight of bare, mingling limbs.

"My Timmy, yesssssss," Dick pounced on him and burried his face in his hair with a satisfied hum.

There was a sigh at the other end of the bed where Damian closed his eyes. "If nothing is to be done, I will go back to sleep."

"Impatient, are you, brat?" Jason replied and disappeared underneath the blankets. Tim had to admit he was impressed by the poker face on Damian's face as it was evident where Jason was taking his mouth. Damian's eyes remained shut, his breath stuttering lightly as his hips gave a languid roll into the man's caress. The blankets shifted to reveal Jason's stretched lips and kneading hands.

Caressing, rubbing, licking, sucking. Slick, hot, hard, soft. Four men with each their own demands, needs, and preferences. Tim's mind filled with possibilities a plenty and it showed in the growing arousal between his legs.

"I love that look in your eyes, Tim," Dick told him as a hot whisper in his ear. There was a hard press against his rear, his oldest brother rutting against him. "Well, I don't _always_ love it." His chin was taken hostage and forced to turn into hungry lips. 

Hyperfocus. It was a blessing and a curse depending on the situation, time and place. Tim removed himself from the bed and wrestled out his clothes in a hurry. It brought a smile to Dick's lips, lips Tim wanted to kiss and nibble at. Jason slipped to the end of tje bed with an appreciative look at his bared body. Tim's eyes shifted from him to Damian, the man kicking the sheets to the side and leaning his head back against the headboard in anticipation.

"Well, don't keep us waiting, babe. What is that perverted mind of yours thinking of?" Jason teased as he pleasured himself casually.

" _Everything_ ," Tim replied, pupils wide and hands twitching.

Dick laughed and moved on his hands and knees, crawling closer to their smallest. "Then let's get started."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this headcanon that Tim has hyperfocus and while that is an amazing thing in convenient situations, I thought it interesting to view the downside of it, especially in a difficult relationship of four men living in different cities who experience trouble expressing intimacy in between the busy moments of life.


	5. The Little Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am a sucker for domestic scenes in relationships. Therefore I embarked on this drabble in which I portray the waking of Robins on a ordinary day when they are gathered in their appartment. It's rated G and on the fluffy side. Enjoy!

Waking up in the morning with four men in a small appartment was never an easy feat.

Tim was last out of bed, but never late to whatever appointment he had scheduled. It did occur to his brothers that he mostly planned his first meetings at W.E. after 10 a.m.

Damian and Jason were mostly first out of bed. It depended on the night, on the nightmares, on Jason's nicotine urges or the trained biological clock ticking in Damian's body.  
Most times one would wake first and while extracting themselves from the bed, would rouse the other, as was the case this very morning. 

They met in the bathroom where they took turns pissing and washing their hands and faces, combing their hair with a brush or fingers. It was a peaceful little moment shared between them as they moved inside the cramped bathroom. Jason kissed the side of Damian's head while the youngest brushed his teeth. Damian made a little noise in the back of his throat and threw Jason a new roll of toilet paper before rinsing his mouth.

"Thanks, sweets. Now beat it, cuz I'm gonna create a danger zone," Jason announced catching the toilet paper and shooing the youngest away.

"You're disgusting," Damian retorted with a wrinkle of his nose and a rolling of his eyes, but also a genuine smile as he closed the door. An expression of gratitude that Jason was Jason, no matter the situation.

Dick found it difficult to wake in the morning, not because he needed more sleep than he got, but who would ever want to part from warm, pliant bodies? Especially Tim's, who was more of a snuggler asleep than he was when awake. Dick loved it and rolled into his direction after both Damian and Jason vacated their grand bed. Tim roused to find his face pressed into Dick's bare chest, head tucked underneath his chin.

"You're too hot," he mumbled sleepily combined with a pathetic attempt to part ways with his oldest brother.

"Thanks," Dick chuckled in return, pulling him even closer. "Five more minutes," he promised him, always, and he always lied. Tim allowed him _fifteen_ , before kicking him out and claiming the bed for himself until he got up another twenty minutes later to the smell of coffee and breakfast.

Dick and Damian went on a morning run while Jason propped himself in the windowsill and started smoking to catch up on his nicotine. He did some push ups and crunches next before slauntering over to the fridge and investigated the possibilities for breakfast. It was pancakes for Tim and Dick, scrambled eggs and toast for Damian and himself, and cereal for whoever complained they were still hungry, like ungrateful brats.

Breakfast was eaten partially in the kitchen and partially in the living room, where Tim was typing on his computer, checking e-mails and feeds of proceeding cases. Jason sat next to him chewing to the sound of Tim's typing and slurping of coffee, nudging him his plate of pancakes every now and again. Tim took a bite for every nudge until his hunger kicked in.

In between their jogging and breakfast, Dick held Damian hostage in the shower, _showering_ him with affection. Damian sighed and complained, but closed his eyes at the repetitive rubbing of Dick's soaped up hands all over his back and shoulders, and returned the favour by covering the man's body with soapy bubbles, and lips after washing them off.

"My pancakes are cold," Dick complained with an exaggerated pout, bouncing onto the couch and into Jason's space, right up against his arm that caused him to miss a bite. The man grumbled as toast fell everywhere but on his plate or in his mouth. 

"That's what you get for being preoccupied," Tim stated, quietly nibbling on his own cold pancakes without complaint as he was used to by now. 

Damian remained in the kitchen, eating like the only civil person in the appartment, at an actual table with actual cutlery. "Peasants," he commented, watching Jason pick at crumbs on his chest, Dick licking syrup off his fingers and Tim's hand missing his mouth entirely, prodding bits of pancake against his cheek as he got distracted by whatever was on his screen next. Damian shook his head and started his luke warm breakfast while scrolling on his tablet through Gotham news.

It quieted down in the appartment, the four men eating and preoccupying themselves or each other, as Dick stole some of Jason's eggs and fed him a piece of pancake in return.

"I'm leaving for Wayne Tower," Damian annouced fifteen minutes later, adjusting the jacket to his business suit and smoothing down his tie in the reflection of the mirror near the front door as Tim was still in pyjama pants on the couch. Tim looked up suddenly as if struck by lightening. 

"I'm coming along. Give me a ride," the smallest man announced, much to Damian's chagrin.

"I'm giving you ten minutes." Which was never enough, because Tim always had to check his laptop bag and briefcase thrice before leaving.

"Aaw, why not stay a little longer?" Dick pled as he was on his day off from the PD, wanting to spend more quality time with his youngest brothers who were slaves to their father's corporation.

"We promised to patrol together tonight if it kept you from whining, Richard," Damian reminded him, crossing his arms while he checked his watch and heard Tim stumble in the bedroom getting ready to go.

"My shift ends at eleven, so I'll meet you guys later," Jason added into the conversation, cleaning the kitchen and starting on the dishes. Damian nodded in acknowledgment.

Tim emerged from the bedroom as Tim Drake-Wayne and motioned for Damian to get a move on. The youngest huffed in annoyance. 

"Play nice! Love you!" Dick called after their youngest as they ventured to the door looking ready to do business. Tim waved and gave lopsided smile, weak for Dick's easygoing display of affection. 

Damian turned on his heels, crossed the space between them and bend down, cupping the back of the man's neck to direct his lips to his. A solid press, a promise to return, bringing a grin to Jason's face as he looked at them over his shoulder and catcalled in their general direction.

"Where my sugar at?" He teased, hearing his phone chiming on the kitchen counter. Opening the new message, he snorted at the heart and pancakes emoticon Tim sent him. "You love me or my food?" Jason called after the departing duo.

"I'll show you tonight," Tim promised feeling cheeky as he could quickly retreat out of the appartment without repercussions.

"So, what are we doing before your shift starts?" Dick asked Jason as he made himself comfortable on the couch, laying on his back and watching the tallest man with his head thrown back, perceiving the world upside down.

"Do some laundry, picking up groceries," Jason listed as he began drying the dishes and putting them back in their designated place.

"Booooooring," Dick complained and rolled off the couch, flipping onto his feet with little effort. Approaching Jason, he wrapped his arms around the man's waist and laid his head in between his shoulder blades as his brother resumed the chore.

"Fine, you big **man-child**. We will go have lunch at this new bistro," Jason promised and raised his voice as Dick's cheering started. " _After_ we do those things."

"Aw man," Dick mumbled but chuckled, releasing Jason with a peck to his cheek. "I'll sort the laundry," he announced to which Jason winced.

"Just leave that to me, don't want another Timmy tantrum fit as he discovers his whites ended up as greys."

Dick blinked innocent eyes and raised his shoulders, not entirely seeing the problem, which was exactly the problem. Jason flung the dishcloth at his brother, telling him to finish while he'd take it upon himself to start on laundry.

"You're not just a peasant, you're pig." He said with a laugh at Dick's cheeky smile.


	6. Grabbed by the chin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of the Bad Things Happen Bingo where DickJayTimDami experience 25 unfortunate events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> If anyone has a preference or idea for any of the mentioned boxes, let me know!

It wasn't often Tim allowed strangers within his personal space. Tonight was an exception only for the sole reason that he had promised his brothers to loosen up and forget about work or cases and 'just go with it'. Probably didn't translate to: allow a drunk club-goer to force himself on you, though.

Where were they anyway? Tim's eyes darted every which way as his face was held hostage by two large, sweaty palms. The familiar smell of alcohol was evident on the man's breath and Tim turned his head just in time to avoid a wet press of lips that found his ear instead.

It was crowded in the club. Drinks were half off to celebrate the resident's fifteen years of existence and it would appear the entirety of Gotham knew where to be tonight. The lower levels of society, that was. There was dancing behind him, sensual grinding to his left and sloppy kissing to his right. Clearly the man who had spotted him lost and alone in the crowd thought he was in need of ministrations as well. 

"Back off," Tim told him with a firm push to his chest that did increase the space between them until the man bounced right back into him when a passing couple nudged him aside. See? Too crowded. It was suffocating and annoying to say the least. Surrounded by mostly taller people, Tim found it difficult to find any one of his three lovers.

"Guy's obviously not interested, dude. Get lost."

Tim released a sigh of relief only to see another unfamiliar face take the man's place.

"For the love of.." the smallest man mumbled and made a sharp turn away from him. An arm wrapped itself around his waist, a broad chest pressing to his back.

"Hey good lookin', how you doin'?" A sultry voice slithered into his ear.

Tim held his lips in order to suppress the rising anger within him. People had no decency these days, no sense of privacy or respect of personal space.

"Come on, now," the stranger behind him swayed their hips to the music together to loosen him up. "I can make you feel real good." That was a promise that resulted in a queasy feeling in his stomach.

Turning his head, Tim bestowed the man with a well practiced bored stare that morphed into a glare as his chin was suddenly held in place. Really? What was wrong with people? What was so unclear about his body language? 

"Let go--!" His warning was echoed by a second voice, and fingers slipped from his chin. 

The place got even crowded, or so it felt as Tim stepped back into Dick's chest and made way for Damian's looming form purposefully serving as a wall between him and the stranger who was bickering with Jason behind him. Their tallest held a firm grip on the guy's collar and gave another pull to turn him around and away from Tim.

"What gives man?" The stranger growled.

Jason narrowed his eyes and engulfed the man's lower half of his face with his hand, covering his chin and mouth.

"Get your ugly mug out of this club before I **break** it." 

And well, who wouldn't be at least a little intimidated by such a demand from a guy who's at least three heads taller? Tim rubbed at the frown between his brows as he had hoped not to use such threats and violent manners in the first place, but he couldn't reject their efficiency.

"That was unnecessary," he commented as both Damian and Jason stared after the man's retreating form. 

Damian turned to him with blazing bright eyes and clenched jaws. "It was _barely_ sufficient. Jason, you should not make empty promises." Jason didn't respond as he investigated their surroundings as if expecting more trouble, or perhaps he was looking for a reason to wreck a little havoc, who really knew.

"Okay, Tim understands, but we're not breaking any faces or fingers," Dick mentioned as he cuddled Tim closer and nudged his head with his nose. "You could have easily escaped, Timmy. You want us to get jealous?" The oldest man asked with only a hint of humour.

"I want a night without **drama** ," Tim complained and startled at the sudden broad grin on Jason's face.

"Too late," the man announced and raised his hands to crack his fingers. His teal eyes picked up on a group of four men approaching them with the stranger taking the lead.

"Four on four? That is insulting," Damian commented while Dick began steering him and Tim away from the scene.

"Make it two to four, and take it outside," he called after his other brothers, "and get one in for me as well!"

Tim struggled against Dick's motion until he felt a gentle touch to his chin. Fingertips ghosted over his skin and caressed his lips. Dick watched him with softened eyes, but without a smile and Tim knew then he had upset him more than he initially thought.

"Listen Dick-"

"Ssshhh.." 

Gentle fingers slipped underneath his chin and nudged it up, thumb resting in the dip underneath his lips. Tim figured there was something about his facial structure that lured people to touch it, and as frustrating as it was, he couldn't deny the tingling sensation running down his spine as Dick descended on him and took what he wanted.


	7. I Have Your Loved One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the Bad Things Happen Bingo where DickJayTimDami experience 25 unfortunate events.
> 
> When Tim goes missing and all signs point at Ra's al Ghul, Damian feels a little nauseous, Dick is about to pull his hair out and Jason is begging some idiot to make his day.

There were ninja everywhere. For every one he knocked down, two more would jump at him from behind. Cowards, sneaky little bastards. 

"Duck!" Nightwing called and Red Hood did as told, going low and sliding to the side just in case. He didn't look back at the pained groan from the ninja whose body caught Nightwing's birdarang. 

"They are delibaretely delaying us," Robin said over their communicator. They were in the same spacious chamber, the ninja having seperated them. A hint of Robin's cape caught Nightwing's attention as he set out to provide him some assistence as well.

"How you figure?" Red Hood questioned as he checked his pockets for more rubber bullets to reload his guns.

"Don't be a fool, Hood. We both know this is not their modus operandi."

"Which means we're getting closer," Nightwing concluded with a smile of rekindled hope. He joined Robin's side and caught Robin's tense expression, regarding the retreat of the ninja with suspicion.

The dark clad men and women slithered back to regroup and Red Hood allowed himself to be herded to his brothers with his pistols raised. The fighting had stopped, but the battle was far from over. Behind the wall of ninja a man whose reputation proceded him made an entrance.

"Grandfather," Robin adressed the man with a mixture of respect and disdain.

"Grandson," the man nodded once in his general direction.

"Can we skip the dramatic bullshit? We know you, you know us. Where is Red Robin?" Red Hood demanded as he took another step closer to the circle of henchmen surrounding them.

"Timothy is taken well care off, trust me."

"Thing is, we don't," Nightwing was quick to reply. 

His heart was thundering against his chest, painfully so. It had been eleven hours since Red Robin dropped off the radar, since anyone in their family or of their associates had last heard from him. Five hours into their investigation they had deductated Ra's was the most qualified to have kidnapped their beloved Tim. They had been fighting off ninja left and right ever since and Nightwing's smiles were running out. "If you as so much have a laid a finger on him-" their oldest began only to be interupted by a bark of laughter.

"I have done _much more_ ," Ra's al Ghul promised as he clasped his hands behind his back.

The anger that took hold of the three vigilantes was delightful to witness.

Tim woke in heaven. At least, that's what the sheets he was rolled into felt like. This couldn't possibly be his bed, nor their bed at the appartment. Tim remained limp with his eyes closed, basking in the warmth and comfort of his current position as his brain functions logged in one by one. Think, what was his last memory? Was he at the Kent farm? Tim inhaled deeply and rubbed his nose against the silk of the pillow. No, this was far more exquisite quality and there was no smell of pies lingering in the air. His head was heavy as if filled with thick fog, but Tim didn't detect the headache that usually came with being drugged. It raised the question if perhaps he had willingly stepped into this bed, and wasn't that curious. Enough for him to open his eyes and inspect his surroundings. It only took three seconds for his expression to fall into one of exasperation.

"Not this again," he mumbled and planted his face in the pillow once more. They had discussed this, vehemently even. It irked Tim that his wishes were not heard. It didn't irk him enough to vacate the heavenly confines of the bed for another ten minutes, however.

"I was equally insulted and concerned," Ra's started at the annoyed expression of the three vigilantes. "when the detective was this close to discovering my newest addition to my underground operations-"

"Which is where?" Red Hood chimed in, hoping to get a piece of information worth noticing. His inquiry was met with a deadpan stare. He shrugged at his brothers. At least he tried.

"As I was saying: Timothy had followed my carefully placed clues, as he does so well, only to not show for the grand finale I had schemed."

"Which is what?" Red Hood tried again. Nightwing nudged him.

"It was most.. embarrassing," Ra's admitted while he caressed his goatee.

"Evidence suggests you found him nevertheless," Robin offered to further along the conversaton. His grandfather settled a silent gaze on the youngest man. Clutching the katana he had abstracted from one of the ninja, Robin bared his teeth in a surge of emotions he felt reluctant to contain. "Where is our beloved?" His voice growled, the weapon in his hand threatened.

"I'm here," came a far call to their left where Tim entered through large doors followed by a manservant carrying several pieces of his costume. 

"Tim!" Nightwing called, grabbing onto Red Hood's arm to collect himself as relief washed down on him. "Are you alright? What happened?"

Tim's cheeks flared up. "Nothing, forget about it. Can we just leave?" 

A sharp sound resounded in the grand chamber. Robin had pierced the ground with his sword to point a finger at his brother's state of undress. "Answer the question. An explanation is in order," the youngest insisted.

Tim turned angry eyes to Ra's al Ghul's passive form atop the staircase. "See what you caused? I warned you about this."

"And your warning was heeded."

"Yet you did this again anyway," Tim bellowed and took his last glove from the man's servant.

"Wait up, **again**?" Red Hood removed his helmet revealing the red dominos underneath so he could openly scowl at the Demon's Head. "What frequency are we talkin' about here?"

"Once a month."

"Whenever I **deem** necessary," Ra's followed up to Tim's answer.

A ninja stepped in front of Robin who had raised a birdarang to throw in his grandfather's face. "I have more ninja than you have weapons, my grandson."

"Beauty about fists is that they don't run out of ammo," Red Hood snapped as he shot another rubber bullet at the ninja that was crowding Robin. The group of henchmen looked at Ra's for their order to attack, but the man held his hand raised.

"So disappointing, you appear blind to what is most important. I took your loved one, who I stumbled upon malnourished and asleep on the rafters in the most ridiculous position where he had been waiting to ambush me, for what?"

"To make a point. Tim's health is your concern," Nightwing answered to the question on Ra's tongue.

Ra's allowed a satisfied look to show on his face at the man's insight.

Nightwing peeled off his mask and Dick showed apologetic eyes in his little brother's direction. Tim sighed and motioned for ninja to move aside so he could join his lovers. It didn't go unnoticed how compliant they were, a clear sign Tim was a regular.  
"Why didn't you tell us? You're more comfortable with Ra's taking care of you than you do us?"

The hurt in Dick's voice put a firm grip on Tim's heart.

"That's not the correct question to ask," Robin offered after calming himself. "The question is: why is my grandfather more aware of **our** beloved's wellbeing than we are?" Frustration was evident in the youngest's body language as he turned his head, ashamed to look at Tim. Their busy schedules provided little time to meet up unless planned beforehand. It was true, they hadn't seen Tim in nearly a month and trust the man to not take proper care of himself while chasing one of the biggest villains around the world. They knew this, they should have cared more. Robin bit his lip and held his tongue.

"Well, shit," Red Hood remarked and scratched the side of his head with the barrel of his gun. "This an intervention?"

"Ra's has expressed his concern for my health quite often in the past. We talked about it, had agreed to not fall into habit again."

"The fact it feels like a habit to you concerns me," Dick mumbled sadly. "But this isn't your fault, it's ours. I'm sorry, Timmy."

Tim lowered his eyes, pursed his lips and nodded at the expected apology.

Robin scoffed. Red Hood felt eager to shoot another ninja.

"The offer to join me also still stands," Ra's suggested to which Tim shook his head.

"Not in this lifetime, Ra's, you know that." 

"Then perhaps in the next." Ra's answered and a genuine smile was mirrored on Tim's face.

"Not in the next either, grandfather," Robin snapped as he turned on his heels and utilized his brothers to herd Tim out of the room and away from the intrigued expression on Ra's al Ghul's face. Tim pushed against Dick's chest as Red Hood flung an arm around the smallest man's neck, aiming a gun on their six at anyone foolish enough to follow them out.

Ra's hummed in thought as silence returned to his headquarters. With a snap of his fingers, the ninja disappeared, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Thoughts filled with Timothy Drake-Wayne. 

"We'll see, beloved Timothy. I am a patient man."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by:  
> 
> 
> Want a say in what comes next and add some personal wishes to them?  
> Check out the bingo card in the first chapter and leave a comment in the section below!


	8. Accidentally hurt by friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 of the Bad Things Happen Bingo where DickJayTimDami experience 25 unfortunate events.
> 
> At first it was funny, because how could the great Damian Wayne possibly get harmed by none other than the Super son of Superman?

Today was no different from yesterday, except that Tim wasn't buying it. Nor were his other brothers, but they were easier to fool, or so Damian had thought.

Damian could feel the man's eyes burning on his skin from the moment they met in the hallway of W.E., both rushing to make it to their nine o'clock meeting, and that was Damian's first mistake, because when did he ever enter last? Tim greeted him with enlarged eyes, a nod and a frown, eyes sizing him up until Damian motioned for him to stop. The silent gesture wasn't uncommon. Damian's choice of seat was, however. Tim halted in the doorway to take in the change and slowly strolled to his own seat, always the same, nearest to the exit. It was a strategically picked chair, which was why Damian sat next to him, usually.

Their weekly meeting was unproductive and tedious. Damian took notes, commented when necessary but otherwise kept to himself. Not much difference there, he hoped. It was a quarter past ten when the men and women in the room dispersed to resume their other scheduled appointments. Damian was gathering his belongings in his briefcase when he noticed the man's approach. The empty chair next to him spun around to accomodate Tim's well dressed persona.

"You're staring," Damian told him when their eyes met. Seated beside him, all analysing eyes and pursed lips, Tim laid his chin in the palm of his hand and resumed watching.

"That's clever, using the room's natural light to your advanatage," he whispered, tapping his chin. "Admittedly, the shadow and the make-up works for the untrained eye," the smaller man commented finally and snorted at the jolt in Damian's body language as the result of having being revealed his secret. 

He brushed bangs out of his face and allowed a bit of sass when their last colleague left the room. "Come on, Dami. You can't pull such abnormal behaviour and not expect me to be suspicious. I'm almost insulted you thought it would work."

"There was no intent to insult."

Tim's eyes softened at the apologetic tone of his lover. "I know."

They left together, but spoke no more despite Tim's lingering gaze.

"Oh my God! Dami, your face!" Dick was shocked, to say the least. The last time he had seen his youngest lover this bruised in his handsome face had been years ago, when he was still on a quest to kill Tim, and Tim wouldn't go down without a proper fight.

Speaking of Tim. When they left this morning to each go their seperate way, he had hoped Tim's silence meant he would not press him further for questions, or alarm his other lovers. Either he was mistaken or Dick's eyes were keener than he thought, even when they were currently face timing and not meeting in person.

Damian scoffed at either possibility. "It's nothing," he told the oldest of their relationship. Hardly convinced, Dick leaned in closer to his phone and squinted his eyes. "I thought you took the weekend off, Dami. Spent some time with Jon at the farm like normal people. What happened? Talk to me."

A plea such as that was difficult to deny, even when Damian had vowed not to indulge any of his three lovers. There was no need for their meddling. A colour rose to Damian's cheeks, a bright enough hue to penetrate the layer of foundation on his face. Dick blinked surprised eyes. 

"I don't wish to discuss it," he replied. 

"Okay."

Damian closed his eyes and held his breath. The defeated, disappointed sound in Dick's voice held such power over him, it was embarrassing to admit. His former mentor, his former Batman, who he never wanted to let down, forced a smile at him through the camera of his phone and Damian's appetite went out of the window. Their long distance lunch date ruined, Damian was quick to tell his brother there was a pressing matter for him to attend to, and therefor had to cut their call short. Dick understood, he said. Dick loved him, he vowed. Damian nodded, once more flustered and ended their conversation, tossing his lunch in the nearest garbage bin. 

At night, Damian was unfortunate enough to encounter his third lover on a mission assigned by their father. It was miraculous how he'd sometimes not meet his brothers for weeks, yet today, of all days, was the exception. If he believed in bad luck, he would be reading his horoscope and wearing his lucky colour by now.

There was a loud thunk. Carefree footsteps approached him from behind. "There ya are, babybat."

"You're late," Robin stated without proper greeting or moving from his position laying atop the shipping container. Red Hood joined him, laying on his back with his hands behind his head, helmet resting on his chest. He regared the stars a second, shifting white lenses to his pensive younger brother.

Red Hood nudged his elbow against Robin's arm, unbalancing him and breaking his concentration. Robin's glare was heated, but ignored. A finger pointed straight at Robin's cut lip and the bruising on his cheekbone. "Spill the beans, or Imma wrestle it out of ya." Ever so subtle, yet concerned nevertheless, Red Hood allowed Robin a moment to consider his options.

His answer was a grunt and a nudge back, reluctant resistance and a hint of embarrassment that sparked a grin on Jason's face. They were on patrol, guarding the docks and on the look out for human traffickers. Red Hood's eyes should be on their six and not on Robin's face.

"Need me to beat the bullies that hurt ya?" The laughter in the man's voice irked him, but he was familiar with Red Hood's games by now and would not allow the older man to puppeteer him into giving information.

Lowering his binoculars, Robin settled a passive expression on the man, eyes hidden behind white lenses. They shared a few seconds of silence, before the youngest resumed his task. Red Hood gave a heavy shrug of his shoulders. "Look, I know ya can stand your own. Damn, ya could at the age of six--"

"Four," Robin corrected him, but otherwise remained silent on the matter.

Red Hood paused and pinched the bridge of his nose. "The point is, and why is this even comin' outta my mouth, for cryin' out loud," the man muttered. "Thing is, ya don't have to stand alone anymore, got it?"

Words of concern, words of love and promise. Robin's lips twitched in what he would deny to be the start of a grateful smile. He turned his head to cover up the spill of emotions from the warmth spreading in his chest. 

"Noted," he answered albeit in a soft tone that caused Red Hood to groan.

"Seriously, Dickie's been bugging me about this all day. If I don't have anythin' to tell him when he calls tonight, Imma send him in a frenzy and he'll be coming here personally. Think 'bout it. Either ya tell your chill brother or face the mother hen." Red Hood made a point that was hard to ignore. Robin bit his tongue.

"I will tell you on the condition that you will not act upon receiving the information."

"Sure."

It took a moment to process the correct words, to form the best sentence, but Robin accepted defeat under these circumstances.

"It was Superboy."

Red Hood picked his nose and hummed. "How?"

"Chores at the farm," Robin resumed, watching Red Hood with a roll of his eyes. "Ordinary tasks such as feeding the animals, moving stacks of hay, cleaning the shed."

"So, unintentional," his brother concluded with a shrug.

Robin nodded and watched him, intriguid and surprised at the lack of vengeance. It seemed he had underestimated Red Hood's temper. Or it was a trick and he'd receive a distress call from Jon two hours from now.

"But that's not all," Red Hood pressed.

"Superman scolded us," Robin revealed, face colouring again. "Lecturing about the rules of the farm, the reason why he and Jon were never allowed to use their powers when there." And he had felt like a ten year old, the same when he did upon receiving his first lecture from his own father, the Batman he had looked up to for so many years. He hadn't been a child for years by that time, not mentally, yet it had taken only one look, one disappointed expression and he had been so embarrassed. 

Not to mention the puppy dog eyes Jon had given him and all the apologies before Superman got word of it. Supers and their super hearing, Damian was quite frustrated by it. The moment Jon had started blabbering about not having meant to throw the stack of hay that hard, causing multiple tools to fly his way also, Superman had appeared out of thin air. Not soon enough to aid Damian in avoiding all the suddenly lethal weapons coming his way though. Which was another reason for his embarassment. He should have been able to avoid them all. His injuries were signs he had been slacking, had been too distratced by the domestic setting that he had lowered his guard and had allowed himself to be harmed.

There was another nudge to his arm. "Stop broodin'," Red Hood told him, reaching for his upper attire and lifting it. The bare skin he revealed was painted in blue and purple spots travelling along his ribs. Robin frowned at what appeared to be uncomfortable bruises.

"I met Artemis and Bizarro two days ago, hadn't seen them in ages," Red Hood started and gave a chuckle. "Nearly broke my ribs, but it was good."

"You fought?" Robin inquired obviously missing the point.

Lowering his clothing once more, Red Hood revelled in the memory, smile broadening. It was a sight that confused the nervous Robin. "I dangled in the air for what felt like forever. It took Artemis convincing Bizarro that I was real and not going to disappear as soon as he let go, like twenty minutes, for him to stop huggin' me. "

Robin quirked an eyebrow. "You sustained injuries.. from an embrace?"

"A **superembrace** ," Red Hood corrected, picking up his helmet and once more hiding his facial features beneath it. "Point is, Supers are kinda klutzes, ya know? Like big labradors smacking their tails all over the place, knocking over drinks and whatnot, just 'cause they're happy to see ya. They can't help it."

There was no possible scenario Robin could imagine in which Superman would act like said breed of dog, but he nodded nevertheless. He did recall a time where Dick had been on Kon's tail for nearly dropping Tim in midair during a Teen Titan's mission, back in the days. The thought of Jon in the form of a dog was amusing and calmed him. 

Other pent up frustration was aimed at the thugs at the dock, and Robin enjoyed himself in his team up with Red Hood, their collaboration excellent even though a bit more forceful than absolutely necessary. It's what he appreciated about Red Hood in the field. 

His talkative mouth, not so much.

"So, what happened to our Dami? I'm this close to grabbing my keys and coming over."

"Hold your horses, Dickie. It was the puppy labrador, is all."

"I predictated as such." Tim sighed wistfully into their group conversation. "Good old times."

Jason laughed while Dick gave a groan on their channel. "Good thing Bruce didn't find out."

"Not so sure he didn't," the former man hummed as he watched Damian several feet behind him, also speaking to someone through his communicator. The tense body language gave it away, really. 

"Babybat was embarrassed to tell. Cute, aint he?" The teasing in his voice fueled his two lovers instantly.

"You should have seen him this morning. The look on his face when I pointed out his use of make-up was priceless."

"Hmm, it's true. Dami blushes so beautifully, makes me want to kiss him all over."

"Maybe we should. When ya comin' over, big bird? I could use some kissin' too."

"Don't worry, little Wing. There are enough kisses for all of you. Maybe some other things too."

Their voices had grown softer, speech slower and more deliberate. Red Robin blew bangs out of his hot face from the rooftop he was perched on.

"Batman wants us back at the cave for a full report," Robin's voice suddenly joined the channel and everything went quiet too fast for the youngest not to notice. He narrowed his lenses in Red Hood's direction. "What were you discussing?"

"Nothing-"

"You're beautiful face," Nightwing interupted a frantic Tim with the same heated voice he had last used.

"Ooooh, that did it Dickie. You should see his face right now." Red Hood was grinning, Robin couldn't see it but it was clear by the tone. "All red and glowing, probably hot to the touch."

"Stop it, Jay. I can't concentrate," Red Robin complained halfheartedly as he jumped down to a robbery below.

"I can imagine it, little Wing." Nightwing sounded conflicted as well, most likely wanting to indulge in the dirty talk that could easily sprout from this conversation, but on patrol like the rest of them.

Robin pulled up his hood and released a stuttering breath. It couldn't be denied how they affected him and how he still felt uncomfortable to present invulnerable around them. Teasing him, praising him, encouraging him further. It felt different from the embarrassment he had felt at the Kent farm or during the day when his brothers had inspected him.  
Beside him, closer than he had noticed, Red Hood had removed his helmet and pulled down Robin's hood. The whites of his lenses were up, revealing deep teal eyes that closed as he leaned in adn pressed a firm kiss to the corner of Robin's mouth. Careful to avoid his cut lip, the man kissed his warm cheek next.

"Oh yes, very hot," he whispered, smiling at the whine of Dick's voice over the communication.

Robin was this close to telling him to shut up, but who was he fooling? Their words inspired him to be braver, to be more genuine with his feelings. Flicking his tongue in habit, Robin pressed his enflamed cheek against the light stubble of Jason's face and wrapped his arms gently around the man's bruised torso.

"Not to spoil the mood," Red Robin said after catching his breath and smiling at the S-symbol on the man who swept down to offer assistance during his fight, "but I have a message from Jon to Kon to Dami."

The chest pressed to his was rumbling was laughter, vibrating against Robin's tensing form. He lowered his face into his lover's neck and held on a littler stronger.

"Yes, he knows you've been ignoring his texts and calls." The addition of Kon's voice through Tim's communicator only made it worse.

"Hey Kon!"

"Hiya Dick, how've you been?"

"Good, good, missing the old days. We should do a team up soon."

"Can we get back on topic, please?" Red Robin interrupted, pushing Kon away physically but with a chuckle nonetheless.

Red Hood was running a gloved hand through Robin's hair by now, iddly waiting for the message to get delivered.

"Jon says he's really, really sorry and would like to get a second chance at being peasant farm boys," Red Robin repeated after Kon, both men trying and failing to hide their amusement at the end. 

"That's not what I called him," Robin was quick to reply, sensing the insult. The patting of his head distracted him, reminding him of his conversation with his brother and how the Supers simply couldn't help themselves. Like labradors. Robin sighed audibly. "I'm free next Sunday. I'll tell him myself."

"Good. Kon says bye," Red Robin added with a wave to the levitating super clone and watching him take off again.

"Man, I feel left out. I need a Super of my own," Nightwing complained next as Robin and Red Hood seperated.

"What 'bout Kara?" Red Hood questioned.

"Haven't seen her in ages, she doesn't count." And yes, his lovers could hear the pout on his lips.

"You're not gettin' Bizarro."

"What about Jon?" Nightwing asked cheekily.

The channel was silent until Robin sighed once more. "Fine. You wish to hear it, **fine**. _You can't have Jon_."

"Aaaw.." The three men mocked him. Robin felt a headache coming up.

"I can share Kon," Red Robin chimed in helpfully.

"I knew I could count on you, Timmy. I love you," Nightwing happily responded. "Love you too, Jay, Dami. Just a little less right now."

Red Hood barked a laughter and flipped him off, a nonsensical motion without Nightwing around to actually see it. Damian pulled his hood back up to hide the blush on his cheeks. He loved him too, all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by:  
>   
> 
> 
>  
> 
> Want a say in what comes next and add some personal wishes to them?  
> Check out the bingo card in the first chapter and leave a comment in the section below!


	9. Hurts to Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 4 of the Bad Things Happen Bingo where DickJayTimDami experience 25 unfortunate events.
> 
> This piece makes a small reference to chapter 07. You don't have to have read it to understand this ficlet, but give it a try if you enjoyed this chapter!

The air was thick and moist. It clung to his face, every bare part of his body, and there were a lot of them. The temperature in the room wouldn't let up, rising only further and starting to take a dangerous height. He reminded himself to stay calm and focused. What would Batman do? It was his go to mantra in unfamiliar scenarios, and this certainly classified as one. 

Tim raised a hand, ever so slowly, feeling as if moving through liquid fire, to brush sweat from his drowning eyebrows. Dehydration was upon him, but his priority lay with lack of oxygen. Every breathe he took was torture. His trachea felt tender from the humid air and was slowly rejecting his attempts of inhaling altogether. Like a vice, his trachea clenched shut to defend his lungs from taking further damage. But Tim couldn't do without oxygen for too long, not if he had to get himself out of here instead of waiting to be rescued.  
They should be aware of his absence by now. He had promised to meet up with Dick later and had most likely missed the timeframe, starting a manhunt like last time when Ra's had kidnapped him. Tim hoped it wouldn't take them hours to find him. He couldn't afford that much time under these circumstances.

Sweat rolled down his face and onto his arms that hung pliant over his knees. He didn't dare touch the wall or the floor, could feel the heat that recoiled there and had ventured to the middle of the room, staying close to the floor as scorching mist hung above him. Only the balls of his feet he allowed to press into what by now felt like lava.

Tim had called for help, had banged his aching shoulder into the only door in the room multiple times, had tried to find a lock he could pick even though there was absolutely nothing in the vicinity to aid him with the task. No one had heard him and the door hadn't budged, but he knew for a fact he wasn't alone. There were others on the other side, unaware of his predicament. Thing is, Tim was out of ideas on how to make his presence known and the heat was killing his brain capacity at a rapid pace. Foggy minded, Tim lulled his head back, groaned at the hot sensation it created and tried swallowing his dry throat. His lips had started to crack a bit and he prodded them iddly.

This was an embarrassing way to go, Tim thought as he became aware of his vision darkening around the edges. Losing strength, he was forced to sit down and hissed at the heat that enveloped the soles of his feet and his rear. Was this what meat felt like in a frying pan? It was horrible. Not that dead meat had to suffer like he did. Still, very unpleasant. Perhaps, if he made it out of here, Tim would be more open minded about joining Damian into being a vegetarian. Maybe adopt a pig and call it batpig. Wow. Tim wheezed at his thoughts. The squeaky asthmatic sound had to pass as laughter.

Behind him voice increased in volume. There was banging, shouting, the door shook in its frame. It was no use, was the first thought Tim had upon realizing his rescuers had come. But they had more resources. Surely they would be more succesfull then he. Tim had difficulty keeping his heavy head raised to watch the progress, but he held hope, cheered them on inwardly with another lull of his head. They had to hurry. 

He blinked unfocused eyes as the door before him finally opened with a gust of cooling air. A delighted moan escaped him and he even shivered at the abrupt difference in temperature. His thrachea opened up instantly, allowing deep breaths of fresh, cool air. Tim could cry, but didn't want to lose any more fluids.

"There ya are, what the hell's wrong with this thing?!" Jason exclaimed from the door, motioning behind him for his other lovers to come over. "Found him!"

Dick appeared next, face set in worry and rushing forward to drop on the floor in front of him. A cool hand pressed against his sweaty forehead. Tim leaned into it appreciative of the gesture. "I got trapped," he muttered as if drowsy. 

"Tim, it's okay, we're here. But we have to get you out of here," Dick told him and his concern multiplied when Tim went limp in his arms as he raised him off the floor.

"He needs fluids," Damian advised, watching from the doorframe also. The scowl on his face intensified when Dick passed on quick feet. "I demand to speak to the manager!" The youngest Wayne bellowed with eyes searching for an employee to blame. 

A girl standing a little to their right, looking confused and concerned as she spotted Tim unconscious in Dick's arms, nodded frantically and ran off, shouting she'd get the manager indeed. 

Damian was fuming. "Calm down, he'll be fine. We found him in time," Jason said with a sigh of relief.

Ice cold eyes narrowed at him. "And what if we hadn't? Who is to blame but the imbecile who allows free passage to this defected sauna?"

Jason raised his hands and then his shoulders. He didn't come here to fight, which was the entire point of this group date. Dick's idea, to allow them all same self-care and self-loving. But mostly to allow Tim the rest he desperately needed. Jason bet their oldest was regretting it already. "Just don't bite the man's head off, 'kay?"

Damian made no such promise as Jason left him to go after their lovers. He found them in one of the staff rooms where employees had crowded to see what was going on. "'Scuse me," Jason yelled as he basically pushed every man and woman aside. "Dick?" He called, catching the man's eyes and relaxing visibly at the calmness reading in them. Tim had awoken and was drinking water, one empty bottle already next to him and staff bringing more drinks just in case.

"You should see a doctor," the girl who had ran off to get the manager sat close, holding a towel for Tim to dry off in between hydrating his body. She offered him an orange that he refused kindly.

"I will," he promised to which Dick huffed. 

Their eyes met but their youngest couldn't keep his gaze, instead finding Jason's eyes as he approached them. Getting down on one knee in front of his brothers seated in chairs, Jason cupped Tim's cheek. "You okay, Timmy?" His inquiry was gentle, nickname intimate. Tim nodded in reply, aware they weren't fooled. Dick's hand on his lower back started caressing him with circling motions again. His skin was tingling, oversensitive from the heat. Tim arched his back and took Dick's wrist, instead holding his hand with a small smile. 

"We're leaving," Damian announced, emerging from the staff in the doorframe.

Dick frowned and tightened his grip on Tim's hand. "We will, after Tim's good to go."

"I am," he promised and fooled no one. "I'm sorry I ruined spa day. Did you at least get your massage?" Tim asked Damian who scared the lurking staff off with his glaring. The girl seated next to them blinked curious eyes and eventually took her leave as well.

"Yes, but it was a poor attempt. I've had more authentic, proper Shiatsu massages to know the difference in quality. This entire business is a fraud," Damian complained while tapping his foot impatiently.

"Dami, _please_ ," Dick responded roughly still too rattled from seeing Tim in distress to put up with Damian's entitled rich boy act.

"Take a seat, kid," Jason urged him, yanking at his pants to get him down on eye level. They were all on edge and each acted upon it differently. Dick was pensive, Damian wanted to burn the place down, and Jason was trying to control the same urge by being indifferent about it, somewhat. Jason took the girl's seat on Tim's other side and started peeling the orange left on the table in the corner.

"I feel like an idiot," Tim admitted after a moment of silence and another sip of water. Water was good, water was heaven, this bottle was his best friend now as were the other bottles in his lap.

"You were unlucky," his oldest lover reasoned, bringing their joined hands to kiss Tim's fingers. "And I'm glad we got to you in time." 

"How long was I in there for?"

"Twentythree minutes," Damian answered through frowning lips.

"I couldn't regulate the temperature, couldn't open the door to get out."

"I have made the owner aware of their shortcomings," Damian promised him but softened his expression when Jason took appart the orange, having it peeled and offered him a slice, then Dick and lastly Tim, who refused the fruit once more.

"Nuh-uh, not havin' it," Jason told, scolded him and offered once more. There was no arguing him right now, he could see it in Jason's steady eyes.

With a sigh, Tim indulged him and ate the slice, then ate three more until Jason stopped basically feeding him.

"Next time we'll go to the zoo, less danger there," Dick said and was back to trying to lighten the mood. 

Tim smiled at him and shook his head. "With out luck lately, one of us might just get eaten alive." 

"Fine, the Kent farm then. We can pet their cows," Dick countered leaning in to kiss Tim's cheek.

"I'll arrange it," Damian said already going for his phone to text Jon. 

Jason snorted softly and brought a hand to Tim's head, pulling him close to press a kiss to his hair. "Gave us a scare, Timmy," he mumbled into the sweaty locks.

Tim closed his eyes and felt them getting moist. Yes, he had scared himself too.

"I'll bring the car to the front," Jason announced next. Dick nodded in agreement and helped Tim get back on his feet. He felt fine, honestly, and he wasn't as fragile as glass, but Dick wouldn't believe him, not in this moment. His ministrations were endearing nevertheless. "I'll get your stuff, get you back into your clothes and shoes."

Dick left with another kiss to his cheek, leaving their youngest in silence. Damian occupied himself with texting Jon, and Tim was grateful for the peace and quiet. He reached for the hand resting in Damian's lap and caught the man's attention. 

"Sorry for worrying you," he told his youngest lover who lowered his phone and leaned back against the wall with a breathy chuckle. "We face danger on a daily basis. To think I'd lose you here, where I could have easily kept you from harm, is what upset me most," Damian mused, lowering his eyes to Tim's gentle expression.

"Please don't start stalking me under the guise of protecting me," Tim teased.

Damian flicked his tongue. "Stalking is your expertise, beloved."

"It's kinda cute though?" Dick added as he made his entry with Tim's bag. He smiled at their interaction and took out Tim's clothes and shoes. He got dressed and venture outside with his brothers where Jason was waiting, leaning against their car and smoking a cigarette to relief some of the lingering stress. 

"I thought you were going to quit?" Tim asked.

"I'll quit when you lot stop making me worry. I swear I got more white hairs on my head than I did originally coming out of the pit," Jason commented reproachfully. 

"Poor excuse," Dick shouted as he flung their bags in the back of the vehicle. Damian ignored them and got into the driver's seat with his phone out. He rolled his window down as Dick and Tim waited for Jason to finish. 

"Jon has arranged for us to pet the animals." He announced looking satisfied with himself.

Tim rolled his eyes and coughed a little as smoke went his way. Still, it was better than not breathing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by:  
> 
> 
> I didn’t quite stick to the request, because as I got to writing this morphed into something a bit more.. lighthearted than I first intended. This challenge is supposed to bring drama and all I'm doing is creating silly nilly scenarios with the boys, hahaha. I'm thoroughly enjoying myself though, so I hope you readers don't mind :')
> 
>  
> 
> Want a say in what comes next and add some personal wishes to them?  
> Check out the bingo card in the first chapter and leave a comment in the section below!


	10. Gunshot Wound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 5 of the Bad Things Happen Bingo where DickJayTimDami experience 25 unfortunate events.
> 
> Blood, violence and dark thoughts ahead.

There once live a man who said: 'It is better to be feared than loved, if you cannot be both.'

The thought itself was disgusting and yet it carried truth. If one would observe their surroundings without the impression that everyone meant well, the world became a dangerous, treacherous place. Men were fickle beings, seeking unreliable ears to whisper wicked words. They were ambitious and greedy, and were never to be trusted.

When it came to the Red Hood as an individual he was not one to mess with. He had principles and albeit on the darker side of the legal spectrum, would not harm a soul without a proper cause. The means didn't justify the end, not really. If a bullet through one man's head could save another, preferably a less criminally inclined person, then so be it. If he could, however, not shoot anyone at all: he'd call it a good day.

Now. The man known as Jason Todd was both similar and completely different. Not often would he go out of his way to ruin your day. And only every once in a blue moon could he be seen engaging in a fight. To people who knew him and the Red Hood, they'd say the helmet made him more vicious, less sympathetic. Truth was, they couldn't be more wrong. 

The Red Hood played a game of Gotham whose rules were Batman's. 

Jason Todd only played the game of life, and he had lost once already. Never again.

Not many knew how nefarious Jason could be. Passion, in the broadest sense of the word, instigated his every action. Whether it be affection, joy, agony or rage. Jason would whisper in bed as their joined bodies overwhelmed him, that he'd never let them go, not even if they'd ever tire of him. He would watch his lovers during uneventful moments and think of them as the most intriguing people on the planet, even if they'd think him odd for it. Jason would beg for whoever or whatever was listening to take the pain from his brothers and let him bear it, triple it if necessary and break him, if that was what it took to protect them. Jason Todd, compared to the Red Hood, was much less inclined to consider the consequences of his actions, as long as they benefited his goals.

The current one was to rescue Nightwing. Dick. Forever the optimistic moron. His moron, damn it.

"Put down the guns and let's talk," Red Hood muttered while taking deep breaths. His heart thundered against his chest, the muscles in fingers taut as he fired bullet after bullet to fend off oncoming thugs. "You **really** thought that would work, didn't you? And that's both the most _stupid_ and most _beautiful_ part about you," the man resumed raising his voice for Nightwing crouching down behind him to hear.

"Well, it never hurts to try," Nightwing quipped through grinning teeth, jaws clenching painfully hard. His hand pressed to his abdomen where blood steadily seeped through his gloved fingers. The bullet went straight through, thank God, but the bleeding was severe.

"Don't get me started. **Idiot**. I want to smack ya. And then kiss the shit out of ya. _Fuck_ ," Red Hood cursed as he emptied his final clip of rubber bullets. They were in a tight spot, much tighter than both of them prefered. Nightwing could hardly concentrate on anything other than staying alive while his brother reached for the hidden clips fastened underneath his pants and to his ankles. 

"Don't," Nightwing warned him as it dawned on him what the difference in ammunition would mean for him. Red Hood faced him with guns lowered, thoughtful for a moment too long to miss the approach of a particular ambitious thug, swinging and successfully hitting him along the head. The crack was of his helmet and not his skull, but the pain was really his. Disoriented, he couldn't properly block when the second blow damaged his helmet beyond repair. Unfortunately he hadn't prepared to get his equipment torn up, and he hadn't scheduled to die **again** , so his domino mask was peacefully resting on the kitchen table at home.

It was Nightwing who distracted the thug long enough by throwing the last two of his birdarangs while the Red Hood found his bearings. The helmet was tossed aside and both sweat and a line of blood streaked his bare face as not the Red Hood, but **Jason Todd** turned to face his attacker.

"You can't," Nightwing pled once more, reaching his free hand for Jason's retreating body.

He took another step forward for the thing he was to participate in next was not something he wished his lover to witness. "I can. And I **will** ," Jason growled in a barely audible tone.

One shot to the leg and one to the shoulder. Nightwing lowered his head and punched a fist to the ground. The thug wailed in agony and hugged his injured limbs as he wriggled on the pavement. Jason watched the bleeding wounds and breathed in deeply. If he was honest with himself, and he mostly was: that felt good. But what would feel even better? Ah yes, hurting the one who hurt his lover.

"Which one of ya lowlife scumbags had the nerve to _shoot my man_?!" Jason bellowed with a sharp turn to the lingering group of criminals. Silence, shifty eyes and nervous twitching lips, muttering words from one thug to another. Was the Red Hood using real bullets? Since when?

"Since fucking now," Jason answered to the whispers amongst the intimidated men. "Now, speak up," he swung his guns to the left and then right, genuinely not terribly picky of a target at the moment, "because I would like to _return the favour_."

Petty cowards, all of them. He should take them all out. For every dead thug he could save at least one innocent Gotham life. It would be easy too, just a few signals of his brain to the muscles on his fingers. Gotham could be several thugs saver within seconds. Behind him two more figures entered the scene. Allies. Friendlies. His other lovers.

Robin was quick to kneel beside their fallen oldest brother, demanding an update on his injuries and adding his hand to Nightwing's for extra pressure to the wound. Red Robin equipped his bow, but had yet to join Jason's side. White lenses narrowed at the realization that the man's emotions were laid bare. 

"Hood," Red Robin called, sensing escalating danger as his eyes flicked to the bleeding criminal to his left. "We should go. Nightwing is injured badly and is our priority."

Jason growled and reloaded his guns. The sound scared not only his enemies. They ran like scared little girls while his lovers held their breaths.

"Jason, that's enough," Nightwing told him with a voice so unlike himself and so much _Batman_ that it angered him.

"It's not," Jason countered, lowering his guns as his teal eyes burned with rage. The last criminal vanished from his sight before he turned to support his brother together with Robin. "But it will do for now." Red Robin observed silently and tossed the bleeding thug a small bottle of disinfectant and a roll of bandages.

Their trip to their closest safehouse was long and painful, silent and tense. The vigilantes removed their masks once inside but still couldn't meet Jason's eyes, he noticed. The procedure of laying Dick down, undressing him and tending to his wounds was almost clinical until a particular hard pull of the thread he used to stitch Dick back up resultated in a flinch and wince.

"Give that to me," Damian ordered.

"Calm down," Tim interupted, but Jason remained silent and allowed Damian to continue his work, leaning back altogether.

Dick sighed helplessly at their situation. Their eyes connected, somber bright blue met steady teal.

"Go ahead, say it."

"Say, what, Jay?" Dick sounded both tired and sad.

"That what I did was wrong."

Dick closed his eyes. "It was wrong."

"Yet it saved your life," Jason countered instantly, emotions once more ignited. 

His hands were shaking and Dick must have noticed the stuttering of his breathing for his eyes opened and his hands found Jason's. The oldest brother pulled him closer to his upper body as he didn't want to move too much on the couch he was laying on. Jason lowered onto his knees, focussing on the smaller hands in his, Dick's more slender fingers and the small nicks and scars that painted them.

"Thank you, Jay," Dick murmured into the silence.

"Ya never learn," Jason replied gently, tracing the lines on Dick's palm. "Ya pulled this 'we don't have to be enemies, let's be friends!' shit when I was Robin and even then I wasn't fooled that it could actually work."

"Hey, I had to set a good example," Dick defended himself with a hint of a smile.

Jason quirked an eyebrow. "Ya idea of a good example sucks."

Dick shrugged a shoulder. "Besides, I was the good cop, B was the bad cop. Imagine if B in his natural habitat was the good cop, how horrifying would I have needed to be to top that?"

Jason freed one hand to remove bangs from Dick's glistening forehead and caressed the skin to his cheek which he cupped. He could imagine it: a Nightwing feared as much as the Batman. An assassin in the dark, robbing you of your life before you even knew it. Part of Jason thought Nightwing would look powerful and enthralling, even more beautiful than he already was. But it wouldn't be his Nightwing, not the friendly and loving Dick that was his boyfriend. Thank God he wasn't. Jason needed him to balance him out, pull him out of the darkness and back into the light, keep him on the right side of the line with a tug on his heart. Just a mere smiles on the man's handsome face would do, nowadays. It was embarrassing to admit how dependant Jason had gotten.

"Ya would have been vicious. And _victorious_ , instead of the fool who gets hurt." His words were harsh, yet his eyes softened. Jason shook his head at the man he had fallen in love with so many years ago. "Forever too good a man."

"So are you," Dick told him. It stopped the beating of his heart, if only for a microsecond. It took Jason's breath away. He knew, for a matter of fact, that he wasn't. And yet, this beautiful specimen of a man was convinced that he was. He wasn't a good man.. was he? Jason shook his head and ignored the stinging in his eyes.

"Everyone sees what you appear to be, few experience what you really are." Jason quoted with a fond memory of one long night at the Wayne Manor library when he was a young Robin, reading translation of 'The Prince'.

"Niccolò Machiavelli." Tim recognized the reference and bore a look of understanding.

"Any man who tries to be good all the time is bound to come to ruin among the great number who are not good. Hence a prince who wants to keep his authority must learn how not to be good, and use that knowledge, or refrain from using it, as necessity requires." Damian quoted next and looked smug at Tim's surprised expression. "I read it when I was five."

Tim's look morphed from impressed to deadpan in a second. "Of course. You are a little prince yourself."

"Who now? What now?" Dick questioned appearing the only one unfamiliar with the man and his famous book.

"Honestly, Richard, you are hopeless. We have a copy in Italian and English at the Manor, you should read up on it, be open to new perspectives," Damian opted as he finished stitching the wound.

"No," Jason rejected the idea and leaned down to kiss their oldest on the lips. Dick gave a smile and reached up for more when Jason retreated. A peck was all he received. "You be always you. A never endin' source of good, how naïve it may be," Jason asked of him. 

Their oldest frowned ever so slightly at the vulnerable display and realized how shaken his brother still was, overcome by the intensity of protecting him and possibly watching him die. "I'm okay, little Wing. I'm not going anywhere. Want to spend far more time with you and Timmy and Dami, be happy together, hm?" The oldest sat up and ignored the complaints of their youngest lovers to engulf Jason in a tight embrace. Jason's body jolted, a faint sob slipping from his mouth.

Damian and Tim shared a quiet look, the former uncertain how to behave at the sight of Jason shedding tears. 

"You may not want to believe it, Jay, but to us, you are a good person," Tim mumbled as he leaned back into the chair next to the couch and watched the older men.

"I concur," Damian agreed taking a seat on top of the saloon table next to them.

"See, little Wing? Why would we be lying?" Dick asked nuzzling the hair of the man who wiped his running nose on his bare shoulder. Dick made a face when Jason pulled back.

"I'm still a good man, huh?" Jason teased, eyes rimmed red.

"Yes, lacking in the hygiene department, but good," Tim answered for his brother, prodding his back with his foot to instigate some intimacy.

"Ya better stop or I'm goin' to sob on your shoulder next and leave a whole trail of snot," Jason warned as he reached up and into Tim's arms. They hugged and Tim groaned at the wet kiss on his cheek, hoping it wasn't actually snot.

Next was Damian, who appeared unfazed by the threat of nasal slime. "I'm not perturbed by your bodily fluids," the youngest announced, arms crossed and prepared. 

"Timmy's right, you are a little prince," Jason said fondly, pressing a firm kiss to Damian's frowning mouth.

He finally swept the last remains of tears out of his eyes and gave a chuckle, rubbing his face as he settled down next to Dick on the couch. He held him close and shut his eyes, revelling in the warmth that was their love and acceptance for him. Jason pressed a kiss to Dick's head and held his lips against the soft locks of hair. He didn't make excuses for his behaviour and even if he would, they wouldn't accept them, only Jason for who he truly was. Well, he was a passionate guy and no one was to harm his lovers, not while he was alive and breathing. He took a deep sigh and released the tension from his body, sneaking a look at Tim and Damian together whispering and exchanging little touches.

Jason thought they were good men, and it felt pretty good to be alive with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by:  
> 
> 
> Okay, hear me out, because I know it's darker than I thought it would be, but my fingers dictated this and I had to get this out of my body, haha.
> 
> I have been reading Niccolò Machiavelli's 'The Prince' and seen some documentaries, and wow. Stop the world from turning, I've had several revelations in the past few days. I am a changed woman, somewhat.
> 
> Now, Jason here is a dark, broody man for very good reasons. His daddy dearest promised him he'd be a 'damned Prince of Gotham', so how could I not implement my newly acquired knowledge and enlightenment that came some heavy 1513's literature. But it is spooky, because I recognize a lot of the 'methods' and 'tactics' mister Machiavelli speaks of in modern society. Heck, I've behaved 'machiavellian' from time to time, knowing I could get stuff done that way, only I didn't know there was a term for such sneaky behaviour. It may be viewed as unethical, but it gets things done. Jason knows what gets shit done.
> 
> Google him and prepare to be slightly more scared of the world and the people around you, but get a better understanding of people and their intentions. Not recommended for paranoid people though hmmm.. All quotes in this fanfiction belong to Niccolò Machiavelli. I take no credit for his genius, cunning mind, but am gladly inspired by it.  
>    
> Also! I promise more romantic!Jason in the next chapter I'm writing, so hang on tight, because I'm on a roll 8D
> 
> Want a say in what comes next and add some personal wishes to them?  
> Check out the bingo card in the first chapter and leave a comment in the section below!


	11. Stolen Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 6 of the Bad Things Happen Bingo where DickJayTimDami experience 25 unfortunate events.
> 
> A glimpse of DickJay and how they came together first in their Robinpile.

Blüdhaven wasn't much better than Gotham. Just another city drowning in its own sadness.

Nightwing was out of commission because of his healing gunshot wound. Red Hood offered to make a few appearances in Blüdhaven to keep the criminals from getting any funny ideas, because he was a _good_ guy. Yep. Definitely not because Batman was breathing down his neck for having fired real bullets. Nah. Jason's a good guy.

On his third day, Red Hood had somewhat become acquinted with Blüdhaven's streets when a glimps of a familiar black and blue figure running through the alleys below caught his attention. "W-what the hell," the man stammered, reaching for the communicator in his helmet. "Big bird, ya there?"

"Hmmwhere?" Came a drowsy reply from Dick snoozing on the couch in their appartment, blinking heavy lidded eyes at the television screen where Netflix asked him if he was still watching. "I'm awake-- I mean, I'm home. Yes?" So much for providing assistence on a distance.

"Get Timbo in the channel, I need him to check the CCTV's in your beautiful city," Red Hood requested with a hint of sarcasm that was lost on a jawning Dick.

"Big bird calling baby bird, come in!" Their oldest called with a grin, making himself more comfortable on the couch and rubbing gently at the bandages on his abdomen.

"I'm here," came an instant chipper reply. "How are you feeling, Dick?" Red Robin asked obviously happy to hear from him.

"Better, but I'm calling for business. Jay needs you to hack the Blüdhaven CCTV's."

"For what particular reason?"

"The reason being I'm either hallucinatin' or there's a second Nightwing in this world."

"Excuse me?!" Dick yelled suddenly wide awake.

There was silence, a thoughtful sound and then Red Robin muttering unintelligable words.

"English, Timmy," Dick asked, frowning as he went in search of a laptop so Tim could send him the feed to watch along.

"Jay's right. Someone's impersonating you, most likely because they have noticed your absence."

"Gimme a location. I'm gonna have a little chat," Red Hood announced, already on the move again.

Following directions, it wasn't difficult to catch up to the stranger. They were agile and knew how to use the shadows, but they stuck to mostly running across the rooftops just to be safe. Wise decision. If only their wisdom had extended to not even putting on the costume, Jason mused.

He lurked in the dark and only had to wait for the perfect timing to swing his arm out and grab the man's bicep as he ran past. A startled yelp was followed by a groan as Red Hood slammed the man into the wall and stepped close, forcing his forearm against his throat.

"Who are ya," he asked, eyes falling on the costume. Upon closer inspection he saw the makeshift blue markings were a mixture of cloth and tape. A budget solution, but good enough to those not familiar with the vigilante.

"I am Nightwing," the man responded and lifted an arm that Red Hood took and twisted.

"Nah. See, I know Nightwing, very very well," Red Hood told him and pushed his head up with the arm to his throat to fully see the man he's talking to. "And you---" Were strikingly familiar. Words fell short at the reveal of the man's face. No, not his face, but his eyes. Blue and large, like Dick's. The black makeshift mask surrounding them only complemented the colour that reminded him of the first time he had had the pleasure of looking into such blue eyes from this distance.

Blue eyes were a requirement to fill the Robin job. Jason hadn't been blind to the similarities when he was younger. Blue eyes, brown eyes, green eyes, there were only so many colours, really. Dick's blue hue, however, was uniquely his. Until tonight.

"Look, this isn't a game, go home," Red Hood gruffed in the hopes to intimidate.

"I'm here to help." The young adult grinned despite the pressure to his throat.

Red Hood shook his head. "No, you're only a distraction."

The grin changed slowly into a more coy expression. "Oh? I'm distracting you?" And those eyes grew darker into a colour Jason was intimate with. The similarity was breathtaking.   
He hadn't always been familiar with them, not to that degree. But their allurance hadn't escaped him, especially after he had messed up, came back and found the world had continued spinning without him. Eveyone had moved on, Robin's job vacancy had already been filled and if he could not return to the life he had lived, what was his place on the planet? 

Jason had felt so estranged, so out of place, so lost and there Dick had been, the one consistent that hadn't changed during his abesence. Still filled to the brim with positive energy, of team spirit with smiles that were contagious. His beacon of hope to guide him home.

Jason had laughed at the thought and next he had cried, because that was exactly what he had felt like when first doning the Robin costume, he had felt at home, and now it wasn't his anymore, he wasn't Robin anymore. His civillian identity had been buried and his secret one stolen. Now he was neither, not really. And there was no more place to call home. 

Therefor he became the Red Hood, and couldn't afford to smile as he swung through the chilly night air, couldn't laugh at trapping bad guys, and taunt them to make mistakes to his advantage. There wasn't much laughter left in the world. The only laughter he heard was designed to drive him insane and kept him up at night.   
Didn't stop Nightwing from trying to get on his good side. Get him to learn how to enjoy life and smile again. 

"Ya were never this interested in me before I died," Jason had one night commented and wow had that killed the mood. Whatever mood they had had, sitting silently on top of one of Gotham's skyscrapers, watching the people below and waiting for crime to happen. They had been on speaking terms for several months by then. Not close, but no strangers either. A mutual lead in their cases had brought them to the same building and they had agreed to see it through together. There hadn't been a mood, and yet Jason had killed it. 

Beside him, Nightwing had removed his mask and Jason had felt shivers creeping up his back, because those blue orbs were more captivating than he could remember. "That's exactly why I want you to know, you're not alone. I'm sorry I made the impression I didn't care, because I really do. I hope you know that."   
Jason hadn't responded back then, too perplexed by his genuine words. Dick proved not to be telling lies, visiting him moreoften after that encounter. Or most likely stalking him whenever he set foot in Gotham. 

"Ya got me bugged or somethin?" He had once asked hearing the man creep up on him from behind as he laid low in the shadows of an alley, crouching down behind the trash. He had meant to sound annoyed, but curiosity got the better of him, made him softer.

"Maybe I do," Nightwing had teased, grin glowing like the freaking cheshire cat in the darkness. "What of it?"

Jason had felt his lips twitching into a smirk.

Somehow he had read it as a challenge. Gotham was their playground and Jason found he enjoyed the cat-and-mouse game in between beating up scum of the earth, especially whenever he succeeded in deceiving Nightwing and following him along on a false set of hints he had planted. Sometimes he let Nightwing find him on purpose, other times he played hard to get.

"You never were the best detective," he had taunted when he had snuck up on Nightwing instead of the other way around. The older man jumped and placed his hands on his hips, cocking them to the side, but with a smile nevertheless, once he saw Jason was no threat. It was easy for him to admit defeat, something Jason couldn't, but he didn't really mind if it meant spending time with Nightwing. It had become a habit to watch over his shoulder, searching for the black and blue figure. One would even say he'd look forward to it every night spent in Gotham. The older man had grown on him gradually.

"I'm better at other things," Nightwing had simply responded and their banter resumed well into the early hours of the following morning. By that time all Jason could wonder was what other things the man had meant.

Two months later and then there was the first time he had heard his voice in his ear, so close and sudden, so soft that it had startled him.

"How did ya get on this frequency?" He had asked briskly, punching a thug in the face after having paused his fist in midair.

A breathy chuckle created gooseflesh on his arms. "A little birdy helped me."

Jason could guess which one. His name was not yet something he could speak without having a nasty taste in his mouth and so he didn't comment on it further.

"Haven't seen you in a while, Little Wing."

Never before had he almost choked on his own spit. Hearing that name however, the nickname that was solely his, had his throat tightening to a painful degree. Little Wing was just another name that had been forcefully taken from him. Jason closed his eyes at the sharp ache in his chest.

"It's Red Hood now," he responded with a strained voice.

"I know. But you'll always be my Little Wing," Nightwing promised him.

Did he know what power he held over Jason, by uttering such words so carefree? As if it had always been a fact, as if Jason had never truly left, as if they had shared this bond from the day teenage Jason had taken the scaly panties from Dick's young adult hands.

"And what is it ya want?" 

"A bit of your time, is all."

All the time in the world would not be long enough to satisfy his longing to prolong the moment when he found himself sneaking into a club he was too young for to enter, and spotting Dick amongst strangers on the dance floor, eyes already in his direction. 

"I knew you wouldn't have trouble getting in," Dick grinned mischievously and motioned him closer. "Dance with me."

"I don't dance," Jason told him while avoiding a collision with a tipsy couple to his right.

"Everyone dances. Let loose a little, have a little fun." He gave an example of a languid roll of his hips that Jason simply couldn't ignore. Nor could he deny the prospect of getting to know Dick even better didn't sound like a good time.

"Come on, little Wing. All I want is to see you smile," and that did it. Jason had felt an insistent throbbing in his pants and had approached with purpose. They had danced, the dirty kind. Closer than expected, or not, seeing as people around them were obviously not only dancing. 

Jason exhaled a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and licked his lips with new found boldness. His fingers were itching to touch, and his body was lured closer to the warmth radiating from Dick's. Admittedly it had been a very long time since Jason had indulged in anything intimate. He hardly knew what to expect, but understood one thing: he needed Dick.

"This is not exactly going as planned," Dick confessed holding onto Jason's shoulder while biting his lip. "I wanted you to have a good time, not take advantage of you." 

"That's cute. I never do somethin' I don't want." And he emphasized his resolution with a deep kiss, his want for this moment and Dick's body evident. They had ventured to the bar to replenish their thirst and until they received their drinks, their mouths kept each other occupied and hydrated. Tongues met leisurely without haste. 

Dick was pulling on the loops of Jason's pants and grinding against his thigh a little. The feel of his hard arousal made his head dizzy. "What do you want to do, Jay?" The question was paired with half lidded eyes and wet lips that tasted delicious. Jason leaned down to bite them and swallowed the excited gasp that followed. 

"Let's go slow." Jason had whispered next. Because he had already missed so much time of his life being dead, and who would not want to revel just a little longer in the company of such an angel?

The smile on Dick's had softened and the older man pressed his face in his neck. His body shook with poorly suppressed laughter, both mouth and eyes smiling as Jason regarded him confused. Arms wrapped around his neck next, Dick's nose against his, rubbing gently.

"Yes, let's go slow," he agreed. " _My Little Wing_."

Jason, or rather, Red Hood was brought back to the present by the call of his name by that same voice.

"Little Wing," Dick's voice made his ears tingle and stirred a longing in the pit of his stomach. "I think he gets it now."

The imposter was groaning against the full weight of Red Hood's body against his back, face scraping the bricks painfully. Red Hood turned his hips and released a harsh breath. Nostalgia had gotten the better of him, and he hoped whoever was behind this poorly fabricated mask hadn't felt the growing of his nether region. 

There was no verbal responds from the deadly vigilante, but Dick recognized the micronod of the man's helmet.

Damian emerged from the bedroom in costume sans cape, gauntlets and mask. Dick blinked up at him surprised, not having heard the younger man enter their appartment and turned the laptop at the curious look on his face as he walked closer.

"Hi Dami."

"Beloved," Damian greeted in return, bending forward to share a kiss with his eyes strained on the screen. Dick grinned against his mouth.

"What is Hood doing?" 

"Threatening someone for me," Dick answered and rested his chin in his hand, elbow on his knee. His look was wistful, lips grinning still. Damian cocked an eyebrow at the evident expression of endearment on his face as they watched Red Hood manhandle a Nightwing look-a-like with his back to the wall.

"A copycat?" Damian narrowed his eyes and scoffed. "Looks hardly convincing."

"Aw, thanks Dami." Dick threw his arms up and invited a sighing Damian onto the couch and into his sideways embrace. The older man tucked Damian under his chin, forcing his legs over the arm of the furniture to make it work, but neither commented on it as Red Hood resumed his work.

"If I spot ya in this city tomorrow, wearing black and blue. _My_ Nightwing will beat _your_ ass, black and blue," He told the younger man before he released him and took three deliberate steps back into the shadows.

"Aah, I'm not though?" Dick laughed into his ear having heard the empty threat when he set Red Hood's communicator feed to his laptop also, Damian hearing the conversation silently.

Jason smirked behind his helmet. "He doesn't have to know." They watched the imposter scowl and run off, throwing his makeshift mask at Red Hood's feet.

"Thanks, Little Wing."

Removing the helmet, Jason took a deep breath of populated air and thunked his head back against the brick wall supporting him. His heartrate was going through the roof.

"Say it again."

"Hmm?" Came a playful responds.

"Don't play dumb, Dickie," Jason whispered with closed eyes.

Dick nuzzled the still sweaty hair of his youngest lover. "I miss you, _Little Wing_ ," he told the man who had vanished from their laptop screen.  
With a mixture between a sigh and a chuckle, Jason swallowed against the tightness in his throat. "Feels like forever since the day ya first called me that."

Damian listened with piqued interest, leaning his head into the careful caressing of Dick's fingers, stroking him like he would a pet. He could see the distant look in Dick's eyes, a reflection of memories behind them. Jason's tone tugged on his heartstrings, as their tallest not often portrayed such a soft and fragile posture.

"Yes, it's been a long time." Dick agreed gently. "And I'm lucky to still have you with me, with _us_ ," he continued, rapidly blinking moist eyes at Damian's concerned look and pecking his forehead to distract him.

There was silence on the other end of the conversation. He had come a long way, had burned many bridges and had rebuild a few. The one that had meant the most to him, and possibly still did, although it had expanded to two more wonderful individuals in his life, lead straight to Dick Grayson. Damn, how he loved the man.

"Little Wing?"

"Hn?"

"Come home?" Dick asked craddling Damian even closer. The youngest reached for the man's tightly shut eyes, finding the start of tears.

Jason smiled a genuine expression of happiness into the darkness. "Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by:  
> 
> 
> I wanted to dedicated some time to DickJay, because they are basically the foundation of the Robinpile in my opinion. Also, Jason may appear like a tough guy who just needs the sex and will take a smoke while on his way out, but he's a good guy with genuine feelings, everyone knows that. Just thought I'd dwell on it a bit in this chapter. Prompt seemed perfect for it.
> 
> Want a say in what comes next and add some personal wishes to them?  
> Check out the bingo card in the first chapter and leave a comment in the section below!


	12. Flashbacks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 7 of the Bad Things Happen Bingo where DickJayTimDami experience 25 unfortunate events.
> 
> A JayDami moment when their past tries to catch up with them. A rare sight of motivational Jay and vulnerable Dami coming together.

The water in the bathroom was running when he came home. Jason checked his watch. It read almost a quarter past midnight and he had just finished his shift at the pizza joint. Not often did he meet any of his lovers at their appartment at this hour with most of them on their patrols way before Jason got into his suit and had his equipment loaded and ready to go.

The first thought that struck his mind was the possibility one of them had gotten ill, or possibly even injuried. It wouldn't be the first time to encounter their kitchen or bathroom filled with bloody bandages and as they tried to stitch themselves up, not wanting to concern their brothers.

Jason removed his jacket and flung the thing onto the couch while on his way to the bathroom. The door was closed and the shower was on. He pressed his ear against the wood to guess which of his lovers was occupying it. The water was turned off but there was no indication whoever was on the other side was coming out. He checked the doorknob ever so gently and noticed it wasn't locked. With a languid turn of the handle, Jason entered.

The bathtub was filled with foam and the blood heir of the family.

"Hey," Jason greeted when a pair of eyes snapped open and the once pliant body kicked back into fighting mode. "Calm down, it's me."

"Beloved.." Damian emitted a sigh at the sight of the man and slicked his wet hair back. It was getting a tad too long to his taste, but Dick couldn't stop playing with it, and he liked the sensation of the man's fingers in his hair. Pleasing him outweighed his annoyance, so far.

"Ya late or early?" One could never know with their irregular schedules whether a vigilante was getting ready to go or settling back in early.

Damian shifted in the tub, watching the bubbles float on the surface with a shrug. "Early, I suppose." His eyes shifted to his lover who had toed off his shoes and socks. The man's shirt came off next. A waft of pizza dough and pepperoni tickled his nose. Jason made a thoughtful sound as he reached for a washcloth and turned to the sink to wash his face, neck and chest. He caught Damian's scrutinizing look and quirked an eyebrow.

"What?" The washcloth dipped down into his pants to his nether region.

"When was the last time you had a proper wash?"

".... Somewhere this week," Jason answered a bit too hesitantly.

"Get in," Damian ordered, straightening his position and motioning to the open space in the bathtub.

"Ya sure? Looked like ya needed some time on your own. Was gonna make this quick and head out." 

The youngest man pursed his lips in thought, shook his head. "Some company might actually be better."

His honesty resulted in a hint of a smile on Jason's face. He remembered the struggle of their youngest, how difficult he experienced it to be open and genuine with them. It was heart warming to witness the somewhat comfortable manner Damian had made his own, and was continuing to improve. Jason would not waste this opportunity.

Stripping down fully, the large man dipped into the scorching hot water and grit his teeth. "How are ya not boiled by now?" His legs slipped underneath Damian's, feet prodding at his hips. The space was cramped and uncomfortable. Jason recalled the good old times when the baby of their family was only tall enough to reach his chest. He had grown gradually over the years, both in height and in person, and far better than any of them had expected.

Damian threw him a smirk. "I've faced far hotter challenges." Jason laughed and believed him.

The four of them together could write a series of books on all of the hardships they had faced. Jason knew their origins well, but was aware there were certain tales, specific details he would never fully grasp. And he wouldn't pry, because he as well had not yet shared the full story that was his turbulent life. Jason was too preoccupied in trying to forget those certain parts.

"No kiddin'. I spent some time with your mom and grandpa, but ya spent years trainin' with the league. Must have been brutal," Jason acknowledged and picked up some foam to mess with, creating himself a goatee.

Damian was silent. His upbringing was no secret, especially since he had boasted about it a million times since he was little, demanding the respect he thought he deserved for having acchieved such great things on a startling young age. Yes, his intellect and prowess was far beyond his peers'. His talents were bountifull and his name proceeded him. Every acchievement came with a cost, however. His childhood had been tough, strict and painful. Damian had broken bones and bit through the agony to prove, what? That he was as emotionless a weapon as the horde of ninja his grandfather commanded, but stronger? He had inflicted pointless harm to strangers for the sole reason that his mother wanted him to. Because he knew he was only worthy of his mother's care if he stabbed the stranger as instructed. Thinking back on his memories, Damian realized how naïve he had been to strive approval and allow them to push him and his boundaries until he was pushed to the limit of his humanity.

"I.. don't wish to speak about it," the young man whispered. 

"Don't have to," Jason responded just as softly and reached forward to rub his hands up along Damian's arm and into his neck until he grabbed his face and held his gaze.  
He was glad Damian felt respected and at ease enough to show such sadness in his eyes. He was both pleased and hurting for him, because he could relate, if only partially. His thumbs wiped over the bronzen skin of Damian's face making him wonder as Damian away from his touch when was the first time the kid had ever been given proper affection?

"You look ridiculous," Damian told him, lips brushing against the rough palm of his hand.

Jason smirked and wiggled his eyebrows. "Pssht! You mean, **sophisticated**." The foam on his chin did a good job of holding on. The youngest didn't return his playful banter.

Jason wiped the foam from his chin with a pensive look. "What's up, sweets?"

"Nothing, it's been a stressful week." He raised his shoulders in a defensive reflex.

"Story of my life. Somethin's eatin' at ya," Jason leaned back again to give him his space. "You're foggin' up the room with your broodin'."

And suddenly inviting Jason into the tub had backfired, because the man could see right through him. When had that started happening, Damian wondered, giving Jason a faux glare. The answer was simple: the very night he accepted this man, amongst two more, were the most important people in his life, and he would do anything for them, lay himself bare for them. There was so much Damian regretted in his life. The start of their relationship was not one of them.

"I stumbled upon an old acquaintance of mine tonight. Aided them in an armed robbery. I only recognized them after I had scared off the criminal, but it was too late by then."

"Too late for what?"

"To not get... reminded of the ones I didn't help. The ones I **harmed** instead," Damian declared while shutting his eyes against the images flashing before them. Memories of pleas from innocent men and women as Damian, a mere child, robbed them of their lives like it was just another task on a tedious list of chores. It had been, at the time. 

Jason could relate, had done his fair share of killing and maiming back in the days when his head wasn't on straight. The man rubbed at his face. His body sure could use a smoke right about now.

"You remember their names?"

"... No." Regret and shame washed over him, drowning him more than water ever could. His jaws clenched at the revelation that he never knew them, had never cared as they were a means to an end: the approval of his mother.

"Look, I'm not gonna say it's okay, 'cause we both know it's not," The older man started after a long pause. "But those were different times, and choices that weren't yours."

"Yes, they were," Damian countered and raised his head, eyes hot and fierce.

"Ya were a child, Damian, for cryin' out loud!" Jason raised his voice to meet the building energy in their cramped bathtub.

"That doesn't excuse what I did. I was fully aware of the consequences!" Damian bellowed, smacking the hand that came to sooth him in midair.

"Well, shit. If I knew this was gonna be a pity party, I wouldn't have come," Jason snarked because the ache in his chest was greater than that of his hand.

"Then get out," Damian hissed, splashing him with water as if to chase away one of his cats. His face was red with anger and embarrassment. The tremble in his voice and hands didn't go unnoticed.

Jason couhghed and spit out the water he had accidentally caught when opening his mouth to reply. He defied him his request with a firm: "no."

"Why not?" Damian demanded, rage quelling underneath the sudden steady gaze of his lover seated opposite of him.

The man surged forward and took his face hostage between his large, rough palms. Startled icy blues widened, hands gripping at his wrists at the proximity of Jason's face to his. There was no fear in them, only anxiety. Damian blinked at the hard push of Jason's forehead against his own, a dull pain sprouting from the place they touched.

"You're no longer that person, Damian. It's important to not forget what shaped you, but don't reject the man you've become and all the good you've done, the difference you've made and will continue to make in repentance of past wrongs."

The pressure of the fingers gripping his face increased, keeping him in place while he contemplated Jason's words.

"Don't get me wrong. It will take more than one lifetime to make up for what you've done. Just know that you're not alone on the journey," Jason added and relieved his grip, fingertips moving up and into his hair. 

Damian let his head fall forward and into the man's neck while he held on to his shoulders for support. He swallowed against a ball of emotions in his throat.

"Is that what you tell yourself?" He asked with a strained voice, heart racing in his chest. 

He felt rather than heard Jason's chuckle. "Yeah, every damn day."

A hand slipped from his hair and clasped his neck, massaging the tense muscles there. Lips pressed to his temple and traversed to his neck also where they found Damian's rapid pulse. They held each other for a minute, contemplatively quiet.

"I tell myself, I'm a lucky bastard," Jason whispered. "And my luck will run out someday."

"What happens then?" Damian questioned just as softly.

"Then I hope I've done enough goods to make up for my wrongs to not come back again and screw things up even more."

A frown settled on Damian's fatigued face. "You believe your revival is a punishment." He had never experienced his own coming back from the dead to be as such. If anything he had felt relieved and gifted in more ways than one. Damian strengthened his embrace on the man's shoulders.

"Sometimes it is," Jason reasoned lowering his hand once more, this time to the curve of Damian's bent back. He ran calloused digits along the man's spine and felt him shiver.

A certain calm took repossession of Damian's mind. He removed his face from Jason's neck and thus pulled the man from his body also, but let his hands linger, couldn't disconnect entirely. Weren't they tragic together, Damian mused while finding a sign of defeat in Jason's teal eyes.

"If what you hypothesize is true," he began holding his gaze and taking Jason's face as he had his albeit far more gently. "I hope... to be lucky enough to find you in a next life as well. I'll find a way to lighten the burden for the both of us, as you've done for me now."

Jason's lips stretched and continued to do so until smiling physically hurt him. "Hot damn," he mumbled, taking Damian's hands and entertwining his fingers. He placed a careful kiss on Damian's mouth, then another. "I just full on **swooned** , baby. Care to take this conversation to the bedroom?"

Their youngest flicked his tongue and rested back in the warm water of the bathtub, pulling Jason with him. "I prefer to stay." He answered seizing Jason's lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by:  
> 
> 
> JayDami was always difficult for me to write, but their dynamics is starting to become more clear to me. They can relate a lot and maybe let their tempers get the better of them when together, because they are both stubborn men, but they are also honest and not sugarcoating everything, like Dick would, or overthinking situations that simply can't be fixed right away, like Tim. This was a great request and prompt to write! 
> 
> What's next?  
> Want a say in what comes next and add some personal wishes to them?  
> Check out the bingo card in the first chapter and leave a comment in the section below!


	13. Buried in rubble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 8 of the Bad Things Happen Bingo where DickJayTimDami experience 25 unfortunate events.

They had done it. Both vigilantes tried to catch their breaths and looked up at each other. Nightwing had moved up a level, leaning over the railing to give Red Robin a fatigued smile and a thumbs up. The younger man chuckled and returned the gesture. Against all odds they had survived. Red Robin wouldn't reveal how his calculations had made him believe otherwise, how gravity defying their victory was. He was still somewhat perplexed, prodding fallen enemies surrounding his feet with his bo staff when the ground shook beneath them and within a second's moment it was gone.

"Dick!" Gravity pulled him down fast, his upper body twisting in the general direction of his brother above who had more time to prepare and had shot a grapplehook just in time.

"Tim!" A striped gauntlet came closer, and closer and they each held their breath as Red Robin reached, wished his arm to be longer and his fingers to expand. Nightwing swung by and was just beyond his reach as Red Robin clenched his fist around nothing but air and fell to the darkness below.

"No!" His brother's voice echoed from above, his vision blocked by the rubble that joined him on his journey down.

So his calculations did add up. Just not the way he had predictated. Bummer, Red Robin thought as his head connected with a solid piece of structure that knocked his lights out.

Dick had always promised him he'd be safe. Nothing could happen to him with big brother by his side. For years, when he was younger and just on the job, he had believed him.

Red Robin grit his teeth and coughed at the cloud of dust surrounding him, pulling his cowl down in a poor attempt to get more air. He was a realist, not a fantasist. Dick couldn't protect him at all cost, not at all times, and this time, he had failed to catch him. The tumble down had most likely broken one of his ribs. Tim pressed his aching flank and winced. Yes, most definitely broken one or two. His left wrist wasn't in much better shape. Removing his gauntlet carefully, the man noticed the colouring of his skin and sighed at his predicament. So much for climbing his way back up. No can do with only one functioning wrist. One weak moment and he'd fall right back down, harm maybe even more the second trip into this hole. The bump on his head was throbbing a rhythm difficult to ignore. Tim closed his eyes and focused on his heartbeat, concentrated on the meditation mantra Bruce had taught him. If he was to get out of here, he had to remain calm and collected.

Fortunately there was another thing Dick had always told him. The fact that every member of their family, whether a bat, a robin or something else, was garanteed a search party if they went missing. No one would be left behind.

"Tell that to Jason," Tim muttered to his own train of thought, coughing again. That wasn't entirely fair and he knew it. He shrugged a shoulder at his judging character. Didn't mean it wasn't basically true. Yes, Bruce had gone to find him, but he hadn't arrived on time. Now, Dick wasn't Bruce, but that didn't necessarily mean he'd collect Tim before his air ran out.

Tim shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. Calm and collected, remember?

He was freaking out. Nightwing was still hanging by the line of his grapplegun, staring down with mouth agape at the giant crater beneath him. His hand was still reaching, unable to accept he had actually missed the opportunity to catch his little brother. "Timmy.." he called softly, eyes welling up with tears at the prospect of having lost his smallest, most fragile lover.

"No, no, no, no, no," the man told himself climbing up the line and onto safe haven, out of the underground bunker and to the top of the Earth's crust. He ripped his mark from his face and threw it away in rage. Then he laid still for a solid minute, staring up at the morning sky and its palet of colours. They blurred, the sky was gradually smudging. Tears escaped the corners of his eyes and found the nearest route down his face to the dry ground below. His chest heaved with a sob that shook his very soul. Dick cradled his face in his hands and screamed in agony just as his communicator indicated an incoming request to join his frequency.

"Tim's tracker just went dark," Jason stated in a rush of words in his ear.

"Richard, what is going on?" An equally concerned sounding Damian joined the conversation.

"No... no," Dick repeated, curling his body to the side. "I lost him," he whispered.

"Wha.." Jason sounded breathless, speechless.

"Tim.. an earthquake took.. us by surprise," Dick pressed his gloved palms into his burning eyes. The pressure did little to relief the pain in his chest. "I couldn't catch him. He fell and I couldn't reach him."

"Down?" Jason asked, stupified by the news.

"No," Damian growled. "I mean, yes, _obviously_ , down, but no. I am not accepting this. His tracker might only be malfunctioning from the fall," the youngest vigilante offered an explanation that kicked Jason back in gear.

"This family has a rep of defyin' death, so I'm not bawlin' my eyes out until I see him," the man stated, but couldn't deny the tightness in his throat.

Dick shook his head, suppressing the ongoing series of sobs and tears his body crafted. 

"Beloved, listen to me," Damian called gently albeit forced. He sounded winded and was rushing to find transport to their current location, as was Jason who was even further away. "Start the search and we will join you. We **will** retrieve our beloved."

Dead or alive, Dick thought getting on to his hands and knees, trying to steady his breathing.

"Damn straight," Jason gruffed and the sound of a motorcycle followed. "Keep this line open, ETA 13 minutes."

"ETA 2 minutes. I am bringing a Speedster," Damian announced sounding pleased with himself if only to stop his mind from going to dark places and 'what ifs'.

Dick was adjusting his grapple gun when a gust of wind nearly knocked him over the edge to pummel down as well. A red clad hand prevented that. "Whoops, sorry, my dude."

"Wally?" Dick turned into the body of his friend and embraced him without pause.

The hug was shortlived as Damian, standing next to them nudged the Speedster and told him to get a move on.

"Right, right, I got a Red Hood to transport," The Flash announced, grabbing Dick by the biceps and turning him into the awaiting arms of a pensive Robin. 

Their embrace hurt, Dick's fingers tightening in Robin's cape while the younger man looked over his shoulder and down at the possible burrial of their Tim. "I'm so sorry," Dick told him.

"One Red Hood coming u-" " **No time to waste! Get down there** ," Jason's urgent demand announced his and Wally's arrival, the Red Hood leaping off the edge as soon as the Flash broke out of the speedforce to get them there in the first place. 

In a rush of adrenaline, Dick and Damian separated and ran after their lover, their own safety a second priority. The Flash stepped forward, gaping at the death plunge and breathing a sign of relief to see they were actually descending by grapple gun. He zipped down as well, throwing rocks away at random.

The rubble was neverending and taking its toll on their stamina. Over ten minutes of flinging rocks every which way, Jason let out a frustrated growl and removed his helmet with a burts of negative energy. Wally took a step to the side to easily avoid getting hit in the face with said red object and turned worried eyes to Dick and Damian, both not having said a word either since they started this activity.

"What are the chances he's okay?" he dared to ask. 

Dick dropped the boulder he'd been slowly lifting at the implication. Damian glared at him darkly. "Shut up," he told the man and motioned for his brother to try again, but this time with his help.

"This is all my fault," Dick told them, sitting down on the boulder instead. "Tim warned me, but I didn't listen." He burried his face in his hands, defeated by the anguish.

The rubble underneath them shifted suddenly. Jason was quick to jump away, Damian tugging Dick along to the outer ring of debris as they watched the middle open up like a black hole. Wally was first to investigate with curious eyes, circling the pit within seconds and face breaking out in a smile. He turned to Dick and ran to him, picking him up in a hug and carrying him back to his point of origin. 

"Wally, what," Dick grunted releasing himself from his friend's embrace to look down also. "T-Tim.." Dick's breathing fell short at the sight of his ruffled baby bird below them, half sticking out of the rubble they were clearing before it had come down on him.

"Finally! I could use hand or six," Tim called ever so witty and impatient to get out of this disaster.

Jason rushed past a deflating Dick resting against Wally's side and jumped down. His weight crushed the stones beneath his boots as he landed. He reached him first, mustering all of his strength to grab his lover underneath the armpits and lift him up, way above the required height to free him. Tim flinched at the aching of his broken body, looking down at Jason's twitching face. He could tell he was seconds away from either yelling at him or crying, maybe a combination of both. The man lowered him into his chest where he held him before sinking down to their knees.

"Shit, baby bird, don't scare us like that," he muttered into Tim's dusty hair. Tim nuzzled into the slight stubble on Jason's jaw.

Damian appeared above them, watching on with tightly sealed lips. His eyes fell on Tim's arm and the placement of his tracker where his suit was clearly ripped open and damaged. He was the one to help Tim back on their level after Jason shot another line up.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, holding the man's smudged pale face in his darker hands.

"Yeah, but I'll live," Tim answered, smiling slightly into the kiss to his lips. 

Jason climbed his way back up and kicked another rock down for good measure. He knew a thing or two about getting burried and having to claw your way out, and he was onethousand percent done here.

"Your arm is obviously injured and we don't know how many poluted particles you inhaled-" Damian started as he caressed Tim's mouth with a thumb. Tim took his wrist and kissed this fingers, patting the racing heart in Damian's chest he could feel against the palm of his hand. He turned his head to their oldest, watching him nervously.

He was crying quietly, openly, as Dick was never embarrassed to express his emotions. Yet Tim recognized the shame that currently clouded the man's red eyes. "Dick, I'm okay," he told him, stepping towards him slowly. "I knew you'd get me out."

The oldest brother shook his head, biting his tongue. "This wouldn't have happened if I had listened to you."

"Then let this be a lesson: always listen to me for I am the smartest." Tim replied in an attempt to cheer up their oldest lover. Tim felt Damian approach him from behind, his presence warm and comforting. 

Jason rounded their circle and knocked his shoulder against Dick's, pointing his chin at Tim's shaken form. "What are you waiting for, big brother?" he asked resting a hand on Tim's head. Tim huffed at the gesture, and saw right through him, because Jason never called Dick their brother. It was a clear attempt to comfort him and appeal to Dick's natural affectionate side. Damian sighed exaggerated behind him.

"This baby bird is in dire need of cuddles." Jason's mouth spread into a grin at Tim's widening eyes. Oh no. He wouldn't get Dick off for the remainder of the week.

Dick sniffed his running nose and dove forward, collecting Tim in his arms, tucking his head underneath his chin. It would bodily harm him if he would go against the urge to protect his baby brother. Tim considered telling them of his broken ribs, but Dick needed this. His embrace was just the right amount of pressure and his body temperature was pleasant against his cold face. He closed his eyes and returned the hug, because Dick's hugs were the best. Hmm, maybe Tim needed this as well.

On the surface the Flash sat and dangled his legs over the edge. He watched the collection of birds with a soft grin. "Want me to take him to the cave?" Wally offered looking up at the tall stature of the Batman who had silently appeared behind him, the vigilante's plane just out of sight.

The man exhaled slowly at the sight of one, two, three, **four** of his sons. Batman shook his head.

"Whelp, seems like you got things covered then." Wally got on his feet and stretched his arms above his head. "Just don't tell them I ran this past you before getting Jason. I know they don't like anyone meddling, but this felt urgent. Never seen Damian so rattled before."

Batman turned to face him and raised the white lenses of his cowl. Wally fell silent at the startling blue colour. "Thank you," he was told and wow, if only he had a way of recording that genuine gratitude. He nodded at the man and was gone with a flash. 

His cape glided on the wind created by Wally's departure and cast a shadow on the men below. Damian raised his head to regard their father and nodded at the man while Jason gave a half assed wave still looking for his helmet. "Ride's here," he called at his lovers.

Dick and Tim shared a smile at the sight of Bruce. "He's going to lock me up in the cave for days," Tim whispered to his oldest brother, holding his hand.

"Pretty much, but he's going to yell at me for hours. So I say you're still better off," Dick muttered flashing Bruce a grin that narrowed their father's lenses at them in general.

"All of you are grounded." The Batman yelled.

"But-!" Damian countered shortly, falling silent at the turn of the man above walking away from the conversation. "You can't ground us anymore," he said nevertheless, rolling his eyes.

Jason polished his helmet and put it back on. "Just let him have this false sense of control," he told the others, laughing to himself. "He wouldn't know what to do with himself otherwise."

The brothers shared a laugh, even Damian coughing over a chuckle that escaped him. Tim clasped his ribs through his laughter, wincing. "Okay, all fun and games, but I need serious medical attention now." That was enough to trigger Dick and basically carry him into the plane where their silent father waited. Tim allowed him the little touches to his face and the promises of taking good care of him, because he knew, in one way or another, Dick always kept his promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by:  
> 
> 
> A DickTim focussed piece, because their natural bonding in the comics is so very previous and Tim would leap off a building knowing Dick would catch him no doubt. Wanted to speculate what would happen if his big brother didn't get to him on time :) Also, Wally! Yes, because Wally and Dick are precious too.
> 
>  
> 
> What's next?  
> Want a say in what comes next and add some personal wishes to them?  
> Check out the bingo card in the first chapter and leave a comment in the section below!


	14. This is for your own good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 9 of the Bad Things Happen Bingo where DickJayTimDami experience 25 unfortunate events.
> 
> Rated [E] for Jason's foul mouth and some desperate intimacy.

Dick might be the oldest and the most experienced, but that did not make him the expert of life. And sometimes, no, he didn't know what was best for him. Because right now, Tim did.

"This is for your own good," Tim told him and tried to close the door on him. Dick planted a hand on the wooden structure and gave a mighty push. Tim groaned at his deviance.

Tim used to love getting advise from Dick. He was the first, the original, what better way to improve himself than to ask the source of his motivation? Dick in turn never seemed bothered to answer a question or twenty. It was with young Tim Drake as the third Robin that he truly felt like a big brother, or how he should have behaved when Jason was still on the job. Of course, Jason always thought his advice was a way to belittle him, because he grew up in Crime Alley. Which it was not, Dick would like to point out even now, years later. Tim was much different. His hunger for improvement, knowledge and advantage points stroked Dick's ego. Their bonding was a natural occurance. They rarely didn't see eye to eye or wouldn't be open to have their minds changed by the other.

Tim Drake wasn't a teenager anymore however. He was a grown man, a succesful business man and an experienced vigilante. The once so hesitant boy, eager to accept whatever compliment was thrown his way, was staring up at him with an intensity that unnerved him.

"Timmy, come on. Can't I sneak a little peek?" Dick tried to win him over with a charming smile.

The deadpan look on Tim's face remained unaffected. "No."

"Not even a little?" 

Tim narrowed his eyes.

"Give me a hint then?" He was getting desperate and Tim was getting more persistent if the pushing against the door was anything to go by. "I can help with whatever case Bruce put you on, please?"

"Dick, I will ask you only once more: go away."

The door closed when he finally surrendered. His shoulders slummed, eyeing the barrier between them remorsefully. Tim hardly defied him. Tim was the one of this lovers he could most easily charm, because inside he was still that lonesome little boy in the empty mansion of his parents craving human attention. Dick gladly provided him his ministrations. 

The man looked down at his hands and flexed them. Had he lost his touch? Was that why Tim kept secrets from him nowadays?

"Have you outgrown me, Timmy?" Dick whispered sadly. A sudden thought struck him and gripped his heart in fear. What if this had to do with the accident last month? What if, Tim had lost his trust in Dick after getting burried in the rubble? Dick cupped his mouth. He closed his eyes and realized he wouldn't blame him if he did.

"Does he suspect anything?" Damian asked once Tim returned to their secluded reading room in the library of which they had banned Dick.

"Yes, of course he knows something's up." Tim sat down at the table amongst his lovers and folded his hands. "I don't like keeping things from him, so the sooner we finish this, the better."

"No worries, he won't be mopin' about for long," Jason reasoned, his eyes preoccupied with a book he had picked up while Damian had sent Tim to deal with Dick the intruder at the door.

"What excuse did you provide him with?" Damian insisted.

Tim shrugged. "Told him Bruce put me on a solo case, so, without him, and I needed this space."

The book in Jason's had lowered slowly. "That was your best excuse?" The man pointed the book at Tim accusingly. "I thought ya were the smartest one here."

"You confuse smart with cunning," Tim muttered, propping his chin in his hand and motioning for the others to lean in closer. He couldn't shake the pleading look of Dick's eyes and knew he'd be dreaming about them tonight. "Let's get on with it, we don't have all day."

For weeks his brothers kept a low profile. Dick convinced himself it was simply a busy time for all of them. There were Wayne galas and fundraisers his younger brothers had to attend, and Jason was basically backpacking through the West coast with Roy for a personal reason Dick could guess but rather didn't.

He had been texting Tim every day, trying to make small talk, throwing silly meaningless emojis at him like they used to do so much that they morphed into cryptic conversations even they didn't truly understand. Tim hardly responded. Didn't text any emojis back. The concern within him grew in size. 

There were little things to look forward to however. His lunch dates with Damian albeit they were phone calls most of the time. Today he was fortunate. His youngest lover had locked himself in his office at Wayne Enterprises and called him via facetime while he resumed working on another presentation he had to give later that afternoon. A cup of coffee was lunch, Dick noticed as he accepted the call cheerfully and inspected the man's surroundings.

"Hi Dami, I've missed you," he cooed leaning back in the seat of his police car.

"Beloved, we talked over the phone last night," Damian reprimanded him gently, eyes on his presentation still.

"True, true, but I've missed seeing your handsome face," Dick explained with an easy grin. The tinge of Damian's red ears was absolutely adorable. "Say, how about I swing by next Friday? Spend the night with my _favorite Robin_?"

That did the trick. Damian was finally distracted from his work and settled his eyes on the older man. "Tim told me you wouldn't be available until two weeks from now."

Dick's heart throbbed at that name. He shrugged, bit into his tuna sandwich and swallowed. "I'll have to make some arrangements, but it's been like two months now. How do you expect me not to come crawling back to you at this point?"

"Not this Friday," Damian mumbled, reaching for his phone and working on a few text messages while Dick's face fell into disappointment. "Titan's meeting," the youngest clarified, knowing it would not encourage his brother to struggle for his time if it involved his team.

"But then I'll have to wait until.. your birthday?" He did the math as he whined, pouting in the end. Damian laid his phone down and gave an affirmative nod.

Dick groaned around another bite of his lunch. Why the long wait? This was torture to him. He enjoyed hearing their voices, but a man needed some human contact, you know? Dick needed his three lovers. He needed to know Tim still needed him as well. He was a greedy, needy man.

"Richard?" Damian's voice called.

Grabbing his attention from the self wallowing that had started, Dick looked back at his phone and into Damian's captivating gaze. The red from his ears had lowered to his cheeks, creating a lovely picture. Dick raised an eyebrow at the hesitant shifting of Damian's figure in his seat.

"Be patient and you will be rewarded fairly," his youngest lover promised him.

The call was ended with officer Grayson choking on a piece of tuna and bread. That was definitely a rare development. Dick tossed his lunch aside and wiggled in the driver's seat, intriguid to figure out what rewards awaited him exactly.

Jason wouldn't tell him. Wouldn't share how Tim was doing either, the asshole. He would tell him a lot of different things though. Like, how fine his ass was, and how juicy his thighs, that he'd like to fuck them, feel them gripping his cock. Maybe finger his hole a little while he was at it, stroke a finger up and down Dick's own raging boner.

"Jay, you're killing me here," Dick moaned into his pillow, phone against his ear and front rutting against the bed.

"Nah, ya can take more than that, baby," Jason replied just as hoarsely as he had when accepting the incoming call.

"Where are you? I **need** you." The desperation was so evident it made Jason's cock even wetter. He tugged at it with a tight fist, holding his breath.

"Nowhere close, Dickie," he promised his lover from the little privacy of the bathroom in the motelroom he shared with Roy. Roy, who had wisely decided to take a stroll upon noticing the darkening of Jason's eyes when Dick's name flashed on his phone screen. "Am close to shootin' though. The sounds you're makin' drive me crazy."

"Hhnnh! Jay, I miss you, I miss your cock, I want it," Dick babbled on, finally sneaking a hand in his pants, and making Jason grin up at the ceiling.

"Miss ya too, baby. Your ass, mostly," he teased and imagined smacking that bubbly butt until it was fiery red. Jason groaned and fisted himself properly.

"I am not offended. My ass misses you most, too," Dick managed to laugh and moan at the same time.

A sudden commotion was heard on Jason's side of the conversation. A string of curses caused concern as Dick gripped the phone a little tighter. There was shooting, lots of it. "Jason? You okay?"

"Can't talk, got company, the bad kind and my pants are still 'round my ankles. _Fuckin' fuck_! ROY WHERE ARE YA!?" Jason bellowed as he fell over and tiger crawled along the bathroom floor while taking cover from enemy fire. 

The call disconnected on its own. Dick wondered if it got shot, if Jason was hurt, and quickly tried Roy's phone to ask him if everything was okay. No responds. Five minutes later he received a message: thumbs up, saying they were fine, but the room was not. "Shit," Dick grumbled relaxing into the bed. His arousal was long gone, but his urgent need for some sense of intimacy wasn't. His wish to speak with Tim haunted his sleep at night.

It took some time, but he stopped asking Damian and Jason about him. Not because he didn't care, of course. He cared so much for their smallest brother that he decided he'd wait for Tim to contact him again, once he felt comfortable to do so. There was nothing he could do but respect that Tim, maybe, didn't want to be with him anymore. He had accepted the horrible thought that maybe, their relationship was already over. Dick dropped the frequencies of his lunchdates with Damian, stopped sexting Jason every chance he got and focussed on his police work in Blüdhaven instead. Tim might not need him anymore, but others did, and he couldn't depend on his other lovers all the time. He was an adult for Pete's sake, and innocents required his full attention.

Two days later, Damian asked him to meet up at their appartment in Gotham. Said they'd all be there, even Tim. Dick had felt his heart stutter. How could he refuse?  
The appartment was quiet when he entered. After nearly three months he'd expected more of a welcome. Or maybe this was the consequence of his decision to cut down on seeking contact with his brothers in general. Dick frowned and threw his bag onto the couch, toeing off his shoes as he went for the fridge. "Anyone here?" he called just in case.   
The door to the bedroom squeaked as he reached for the orange juice. Pausing midair, Dick raised a questioning eyebrow. He was not alone after all. 

Leaning a hip against the kitchen counter, Dick drank from the juice carton on purpose. No responds from whoever was there. Hmm, Damian would have definitely revealed himself, scolding him for his bad habits. He allowed minutes to pass as he searched the kitchen and living room for clues. There was a mug in the sink, no sign of freshly made coffee. Tea then, maybe? Which meant no Tim, but Jason.

Dick finished the carton, strolling to the bedroom door that stood ajar.

"Okay, game's over, I know you're there Jason," he called opening the door and catching sight of the man in question, seated in the window sill smoking a cigarette.

He took a drag and exhaled out of the window. The door closed behind Dick unexpectedly. "Nah, not yet.. Ya played it well so far, though."

Damian loomed over him from behind, hands taking his wrists hostage behind his back. He tensed against his chest, feeling Damian's mouth near his ear.

"Patient, you were not." Words whispered, lips pressing to his neck. "But you didn't disappoint."

Dick swallowed with difficulty, testing the grip on his wrists. Tight, wow. "What's going on exactly?" He asked turning his head seeking Damian's lips when the adjoined bathroom door opened and revealed a freshly showered Tim, hair still moist, towel doing little to cover him up.

"Tim... You haven't returned my texts or calls," he began, fighting against Damian's grip in earnest. The youngest sought Jason's gaze and allowed Dick his release when Jason nodded. He blocked the door and crossed his arms.

"I know-" Tim started.

Dick stepped forward, balling his fists. "Why not?"

Tim waited and sighed. He wrapped the towel around his waist and didn't look up. "Because you needed time to think."

"I- what now?" Confused beyond believe, the oldest man took a turn to inspect Jason and Damian's reaction to Tim's conclusion. Both men remained silent.

"This is what you always do, Dick." Tim reasoned, closing in on the man. "Something happens to me, to one of us, and you put yourself to blame."

"Because this was my fault."

"Oh yes, because now you are magically capable of causing earthquakes?" Tim crossed his arms to emphasize his point.

Dick sighed loudly. "No."

"You blame yourself and then obsessively try to make things right. That's why I didn't return your texts or calls, Dick," Tim placed a hand on Dick's arm. "Because I knew telling you I was fine wouldn't make you stop, wouldn't _convince_ you. Nothing would. At least, that's what I thought."

Tim offered a little smile and Dick itched to embrace him, but he wouldn't. He'd promised himself he let Tim go if he wished to step out of their relationship, and he wouldn't beg.  
The smaller man tilted his head at the sight of Dick's hands flexing and curling. "See, you figured it out yourself." Looking back up again, there was a look of relief on Tim's face. "Like I knew you would. I never doubted you to realize there are, in fact, situations in which you can do nothing. And that, although it sucks to hear it, I'm fine _without you_."

"You.. deliberately ignored me, let me suffer?" Dick's voice was quiet, tense. He stepped away from Tim's touch. Tim held his ground, smile gone. "Yes, I did. It felt horrible, but it was for your own good."

" **You** felt horrible?" Dick exclaimed, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Richard, this was not a scheme to simply hurt you. We agreed--"

"We?!" Dick turned to their youngest with his heart thundering against his chest.

"Yeah. This is a team effort," Jason called stepping away from the window and towards them. "Now, are ya done with the self loathin'? 'Cause **we** are."

His breathing was labored, he knew, could hear himself taking deep inhales to calm the overload of emotions in his system. Betrayal shone clearly in his moist eyes, because his brothers surrounding him had never felt this painful.

"Dick," Tim tried again, voice stern. "You have to accept that in our line of work, bad things happen. You didn't catch me, but you didn't _give up_ on me. That's what's most important." Tim glanced at Damian and Jason, who were silently observing Dick and his inner turmoil. "You would never, _ever_ , give up on any of us and that's enough. **Let it be enough**."

"I thought you didn't want anything to do with me anymore," Dick revealed and pressed the back of his hand to his eye, catching tears before they fell.

A mad shaking of Tim's head was followed by a short laugh that sounded a tad bitter to their ears. "How could I ever? I've admired you since I was a kid and even accepted your decision to make Damian your Robin, remember? I don't know what else to do to make it clear I have always loved you and won't ever stop doing so. There's not much else I can give up." 

Tim swallowed against a ball of emotions in his throat. "The rubble accident was just that: an accident. You have hurt me far more in the past, Dick. All of you have. But I'm still here, and not going anywhere."

A stuttering breath broke the silence that lingered. Dick was desperately trying not to cry and turned to the source of the sound. Damian was turning away from them against the door, shoulders hunched. "Dami.." His voice hardly audible, betrayed and broke him. Tears ran down his cheeks and Tim couldn't watch any longer, turning away also.

"What a mess.." Jason muttered under his breath, watching Dick struggle between reaching for Damian or Tim. No one ever said this would be easy. Jason scrubbed his face roughly, drying his eyes with a quick swipe of his thumb. 

"Come here, precious." Damian allowed Jason to pull him to their side while his other hand grabbed the nape of Tim's neck, forcing him to raise his head and show the sorrow on his face. "Don't hide it, baby." Tim huffed at Jason's request, blinking red rimmed eyes at his brothers. "We did ya wrong for a long time," Jason added remorsefully.

"I'm sorry," Dick told him, told them. He pulled Tim to his chest with one arm, the other curling around Damian's torso.

Damian's left hand was a fist in Dick's shirt, his right a vice on Jason's own hand. He lowered his head, nose nudging at Tim's shampooed hair. He didn't trust his voice not to waver in this moment. It wasn't the first time any of them marveled at the miracle that Tim had returned to their family, to them.

"It's okay," Tim responded in habit, tightening the embrace.

Dick laughed through his tears. "I love you, all of you, so _so_ much." 

Their oldest kissed Tim's soft hair, Damian's warm cheek and watched them with a look of endearment. He gave a hint of smile as Jason leaned forward to kiss his forehead and rested his own there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by:  
> 
> 
> I couldn't decide on a fluffy or a dark fic and thus it became a rollercoaster of a little bit of everything. 
> 
> Also, we're getting close to having our first Bingo row! I wanted to do something exciting for whenever that happens. Got me thinking and I wanted to take this opportunity to test the waters, see if anyone is interested in joining a Robinpile event? I haven't seen any on tumblr or whatever, and would like to stimulate more Robinpile fics, so was thinking of hosting something myself. Any readers/writers/both care to join me?
> 
>  
> 
> What's next?  
> Want a say in what comes next and add some personal wishes to them?  
> Check out the bingo card in the first chapter and leave a comment in the section below!


	15. Gaslighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 10 of the Bad Things Happen Bingo where DickJayTimDami experience 25 unfortunate events.
> 
> Rated [T] and Tim centric within DickJayTimDami.

Tonight was the anual fundraiser for the Gotham Neon Knights project Tim was still the proud Co-CEO of. Having started the initiative years ago with his then fake fianceé Tam Fox, Neon Knights was no longer a local project. They had gone global years ago, but tonight they were celebrating the tenth year anniversary of the social foundation.

"Good evening everyone and thank you kindly for joining us tonight. It is with utmost pride that I speak to you about The Neon Knights foundation, supported by Wayne Enterprises, and our achievements over the course of ten years." There was an excited whoop from the back of the room. Tim ignored what had most definitely been Jason's voice. 

"We have helped thousands of at-risk teenagers from turning to crime. Have provided eight youth shelters in Gotham alone and continue to organise weekly community activities for youth gangs. To keep them off the streets," Tim halted to show a brilliant white smile. The finely clad men and women before him chuckled and buzzed about his charm.

Beside him Tam Fox raised her flute of champagne, snorting in it. When she agreed to aid him, who would have taught that ten years later their project was still up and running? It had been a necessity at first, with the disappearance of Batman at the time, criminals were at large and eager to throw turf wars. They had been successful in uniting the gangs under a truce pact and Tim had suggested utilizing it as a part of his public facade while operating as Red Robin. 

Tim was right however. This was something to be proud of. Tam let her eyes drift to the left corner of the room where tables were decorated with homemade confectionaries. The result of another community activity yesterday. The children wandered about to hand them out to willing socialites, sneaking most of the sweets for themselves. Tam smiled and decided she hadn't seen a thing.

His family was also attending. Bruce was prancing around like a proud father, and Tim felt especially warm inside knowing he wasn't entirely faking it.

Dick and Damian had arrived with him as his brothers, while Jason had taken to dying his hair brown and was wearing fake brown contacts in a small attempt not to get recognized. The name he gave at the door? The name he had made Tim promise to put on the guest list? Ricardo. Just, Ricardo. He was an idiot and good with children, Tim noticed as he stepped away from the microphone and the live band kicked in once more. He found Jason discussing cupcake recipes and watched as he huddled up a bunch of the kids together to share with them his secret ingredient. It was too rowdy to hear them. By the reaction of the kids, Tim could guess he had told them something disgusting. Several girls stuck their tongue out at him, most boys having a good laugh. Their collective opinion was that Jason-or rather, Ricardo, was a funny guy, but should never be trusted in the kitchen.

"What a dork," Dick said grinning ear to ear beside him handing him another glass of bubbling alcohol.

"He makes it look easy," Tim replied taking a sip. Children weren't his forte. He was relieved Tam did most of the press related work with them. Maybe he could ask Jason for some tips later.

"At least they are enjoying themselves. I can hardly wait to retire," Damian commented as he rounded a chatting couple to join their side.

They chuckled knowingly. They had all experienced the tedious galas Bruce used to drag them to when they were younger. Tim had fitted in most naturally. His parents had been socialites as well, organizing far more humble events. Still, Tim was acquainted with the etiquette and expectations.  


Applauding erupted from the crowd behind them, the live band finishing another song. They were pleasant to do business with, real professionals. Bruce hired them regularly. Tonight their playset consisted out of more classical songs, and their instruments looked to be worth a fortune.

One of the women on the stage excused herself to retrieve a different instrument: a violin. Tim forgot to drink with his glass pressed to his lips at the sight of the model. It was the same as his had been when he was younger. Back in the day when he also used to perform with either violin or piano whenever the Drake family organized a social gathering. How could he have forgotten? He hadn't, not really. 

Dick nudged him playfully, causing him to swallow a larger portion of his drink than intended. He coughed, Damian patting him on the back gently. 

"You looked distracted," his oldest lover glanced at the same woman. "Someone you know?"

Tim shook his head. "Not the woman, the instrument."

"Ah, yes. Father told me you were also taught the art of the violin and piano," Damian recalled while swirling his champagne. He had known for several years that he and Tim shared the skill of playing classical instruments, but there had never been a reason to mention it before.

Dick looked surprised and excited. "Really? I've never heard you play, Timmy."

A half hearted smile spread on Tim's lips. He hadn't played in a long time, but could vividly remember the sensation. He'd be the headliner of the night, such a young talented child for his age, smiling because his parents were smiling and paying him attention. It was the sole reason he'd even practice when there were far more interesting things to do. Like digging up bugs, or playing catch with your dad. But Tim knew very quickly, had noticed early on, that his value with his parents, mostly his mother, cold and distant mother, rose considerably if the public thought well of him.

His mother's voice rung loudly in his ears, even now. 

"Isn't it lonesome for a young child?" Someone would ask her during the gala.

"Oh, no, nonsense! He has many hobbies to occupy himself with, don't you Tim?"

"Ah, I play the violin and the piano," Tim aged seven would answer with a curt nod, as instructed by his mother.

"And you love music, don't you?"

"I.. I do?"

"Yes! Oh, Tracy you wouldn't believe how difficult it is to find a minute's peace and quiet in the house, with Tim and his instruments so full of life."

Tim, young and insecure, lowered his frown to his shiny little shoes. The house always felt quiet and empty to him though. My parents were good people, he'd tell anyone who asked. In a sense, he was lying to the world. They were decent people, but their parent skills left a lot to be desired. Not that anyone knew and whenever they asked him what it was like, living in such a marvelous house, Tim told them he was glad to be born so lucky. Was he though? Lucky? 

Tim remembered second guessing a lot in his early years at life. It was in his nature when he was a child when his mother was keen to have him apologize for situations he had little influence on. His sense of doubt resulted in a primal need to be able to double check his facts. Be absolute certain of what he had witnessed and heard.

It wasn't until a few years ago, in a fleeting moment of reflection about his birth parents that Tim experienced a profound revelation. Emotional and psychological manipulation had not been beyond them. Not beyond Janet, his mother, at least.

The realization had come upon fondly looking at a box of old photographs he had taken. He had then wondered why he had taken to photography in the first place and pondered the question for several hours, going through his collection. One of his most cherished items was that of a young Dick at the circus. When he had laid eyes on the photo he had smiled, then frowned, then had to sit down speechlessly for it had dawned on him suddenly that he had instinctively been searching for evidence of his sanity.

When he had witnessed Dick in his natural habitat, Tim had felt like he had found something he was truly passionate for: being as carefree and smiling as that boy, having the time of his life without worrying if people were applauding and cheering for him. In the spotlight so easily, small Tim could only imagine what it would be like. And he had thought about it many, many nights, especially when Batman had a young support crimefighter Robin joining him. He would tell his parents he could tell who the Wonder boy was. No he couldn't, they would tell him. A boy _like him_ could never.

Even then Tim had doubted himself, like he was taught to, like he was **manipulated** to. Fortunately his collection of photo's had grounded him, had proven he was not delusional or fantasizing about the world. A picture of young Dick Grayson at the circus showed an identical smile to the bundle of joy smiling at Batman's side. A snapshot he had taken months later.

Tim smiled at the joy on his lover's face and wanted to kiss him. “I don't play anymore,” he confessed with an apologetic look.

"Ah yes, I remember now! Janet would always find a moment to brag about how devoted you were to music, young mister Drake," an older man in his mid-sixties said. The man had ventured across the room to speak to him, nodding his head in acknowledgement at Dick and Damian on either side of him. "I recall you played remarkably well, the violin?"

Tim gave a nod and a forced smile. Dick frowned out of the corner of his eye, Damian taking another drink of alcohol from a passing waiter. "Won't you play for us, son?"

"Oh that's a lovely idea," chimed an equally aged woman to their left. The suggestion spread like wildfire through the room. Tim was kindly refusing by this point until the woman at the stage stepped down and welcomed him to it herself. By now all eyes were settled in their direction, Dick putting on his biggest charming smile while Damian tried to drown himself in champagne.

"I will accompany you on piano. A duet," Damian suggested after finishing his second glass. Sensing his discomfort, the younger brother placed a hand on Tim's shoulder to show support. The older ladies around them cheered in glee.

"Damian, I'm not in the mood for this," Tim said through gritted smiling teeth as they ventured forward to the stage.

"Neither am I. However, declining seems unpreferable at this moment," his brother replied with a swift nod at their father talking business with the new investor of Neon Knights. 

Tim bit his tongue. Just his luck. "Fine, what song? I haven't played in years."

Damian smirked lightly. "You will recognize it when you hear it."

Frustrated, Tim took the violin from the kind woman, thanked her sincerely and waited for the other musicians to leave. With practiced ease the violin fit under his chin. Tim raised the bow and inhaled deeply, but unable to forget all they eyes fixated on him. Behind him Damian tested one key and caught his attention. The younger man held his gaze and started playing, the keystrokes familiar to him and not requiring his attention. Small talk about Damian's skill was already starting when Tim gave him a grin and joined him on the violin.

Damian had chosen a piece all too familiar to him, and he was keen to accept the challenge he had been given. Vivaldi's Winter was no easy feat. Tim knew, because his fingers had bled to perfect it when he was little.

"Janet loved this piece," the older man commented, having strolled to the very front of the stage to observe Tim and Damian's duet. Yes, it had been one of her favorites and Tim could imagine why. Unlike Vivaldi's Spring, an upbeat and light counterpart, this concerti held a sense of desperation as if rushing from the cold in search of a warm haven. 

His fingers slid along the strings of his instrument, a barricade of frequencies silencing the entire gathering of socialites. Damian's piece was undoubtedly below his standard level, but he played it consistently without taking his eyes off of Tim. The concerti slowed to a more peaceful part, a breathing space for both Tim and his audience. It was short lived as Vivaldi's Winter picked up once more with rapid strokes of Tim's bow and quick taps of Damian's fingers on the piano.

At a distance Jason had forsaken the children and prowled over to his oldest lover, pressing the length of his arm against Dick's with the excuse of a crowd surrounding them. "Well, look at that," he whispered impressed by the display on stage. “Such handsome devils.”

"I can't look away," Dick murmured enchanted by the intensity of both the song and the intimate look shared between his younger brothers.

Tim had turned from the audience, had no need for their approval and applause. In this moment with countless cold memories flooding his mind, he required only Damian's full attention and the fire that shone in those otherwise icy eyes. The piece and their moment came to an end with an almost playful part followed by a last rush of emotion transformed into music. Tim took a step towards his brother at the piano, smile growing on his face that mirrored faintly on Damian's. The youngest leaned back and made a show of playing the last few keystrokes required to accompany Tim's slow stroke to end the song.

Silence returned to the room shortly. Tim released a sudden breath and lowered the instrument, blinking at the cacophony of clapping, cheering and whistling from the audience. The older man who had requested he played, looked pleased as well.  


Bruce walked up to them when they left the stage. He clasped both Tim and Damian on the back and pulled them together for a photograph with the three of them. "Well played. You surprised me," their father complimented after the flashes were over.

"Believe me, it was not planned," Tim replied body buzzing pleasantly with a sense of accomplishment. Who knew he could still play that well?

"Why did you ever stop playing?" Dick asked walking up to them with Jason on his tail. "That was amazing, you two. I'd love to get that on video."

"Maybe some other time," Tim told him, calming down a bit as the crowd returned their attention to each other and he was granted a moment with his lovers as Bruce also sauntered off. 

"Playing instruments was mainly a thing my mother enjoyed." He shrugged, leaning into Jason for a moment as the man placed a hand on his lower back.

"Looked like ya were enjoyin' yourself to me," the tall man reasoned. 

There would have been a time, when Tim was little, when he would have wholeheartedly agreed, because it would be what his mother had wanted to hear. Something Janet Drake had planted in his mind to respond with and to strike a good impression. His mother had been a decent person, Tim thought, appreciative of the control over his own train of thoughts, his own opinions and the security it gave him as a person. More than once had his lack of self doubt saved him and their family. When everyone was convinced Bruce was gone, he could have easily slipped back into old habits, believing what others claimed to be the truth. Except, he had known for a fact that they were incorrect, and he wasn't. He could feel deep within his very being, he was not insane and making things up. It had cost him dearly, but Bruce had returned and so had his confidence. It was an ever growing confidence he had been built over the past few years that allowed him his honesty towards his lovers.

He gave a light chuckle regarding Damian next to him. "The enjoyment was caused by the company, not the activity."

Damian's hand raised to fidget with the cufflinks on Tim's attire, a smile threatening to break out on his face. "Enchanted by my marvelous performance, were you?" He teased with Dick pretending to swoon behind him.

"Don't get cocky now," Tim warned him with a laugh. Jason and Dick joined him merrily. 

There was no doubt in his mind that Damian wanted to drag him to the nearest private room to enchant him even further, and he loved knowing one hundred percent he was right about it. It thrilled him to know he could tell by the dilation of Damian's pupils and the light clenching of his jaws. They were clear signs of want for him, and he couldn't be convinced otherwise.

"But.. yes, I was," he added in a lowered voice, fingertips caressing Damian's hand in a featherlight touch. "And I'd very much like to leave to get _enchanted_ some more."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by:  
> 
> 
> I was struggling a bit with this, because I know Tim loved his parents dearly, but let's be honest and eehh, they weren't perfect. No one is, by the way. So I concentrated mostly on his mother, because in the comics he is closer to his dad. Obviously I exaggerated quite a bit, because I honestly believe his parents wouldn't gaslight him on a regular basis, but I can imagine it happening more than is good for young Tim. And still, Tim turned out to be such a determined striking young lad <3
> 
> Here's a link to Vivaldi's Winter violin and piano duet. It is a wonderful inspiring piece:  
> https://youtu.be/5kYBl4wpzn0?t=1910
> 
>  
> 
> What's next?  
> Want a say in what comes next and add some personal wishes to them?  
> Check out the bingo card in the first chapter and leave a comment in the section below!


	16. Face down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim's face down on the couch and it's hilarious until it's not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sick all weekend and feeling all kinds of blergh. So to make up for what should have been a Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt fill, I give you a small drabble of the Robinpile taking care of Tim before he works himself to death.

Tim was laying face down on the couch when they get home. The sight was hilarious, one leg hanging over the edge with a missing shoe. Dick and Jason were laughing amongst themselves, trying to keep as silent as possible because God knew their little Tim could use as much rest as possible.

"You'd think he'd try to get to the comfort of the bed," Dick murmured kneeling down besides the couch and reaching for Tim's messy head of hair.

Jason was leaning over the back of the furniture when his lover threw him a worried look. "What?" he asked confused and observed the irregular falling and rising of Tim's back.

"He's burning up," Dick told him wiping hair from a coloured face that was usually so pale.

Without a second's thought Jason was marching to the bathroom and collecting washcloths and towels, throwing half of them in the sink and turning on the tap. He returned with them in a bucket and a pile of dry ones underneath his arm. "Any other symptons?"

"He's out cold. No responds to me, but his dilation is working," Dick responded motioning for Jason to help him turn Tim around on his back. 

"No signs of injuries. Might be something airborne?" The oldest was reaching for his communicator to contact and question Oracle when another voice joined the conversation.

"Or he has been feverish all day and refused to listen to reason and thus pushed himself over his limit," Damian complained from the appartment door where he removed his coat and shoes. He gave Tim a once over and flicked his tongue. "It has only gotten worse since this morning. So stubborn."

"You should have called me, Dami."

"To do what, exactly?" Damian asked unconvinced of the suggestion.

"Well, I could have persuaded him to get home early, or Jay could have picked him up from work, get him home safe and sound."

"You believe I didn't threaten him to do pricesely that?"

"You shouldn't be threatening him, Dami, what the heck." Dick threw him a towel that the youngest caught with a shrug of his shoulders. Sometimes Tim needed not to be given a choice, was all Damian was saying.

"Be quiet, please," came a mutter from the couch where bleary eyes blinked at the three men crowding him and his personal space. "Just a fever, no need to panic."

"Ya keep forgettin' ya don't have spleen, babe. One fever can spiral ya down," Jason told him sitting down near his feet and pulling them onto his lap. His large hands found the one shoe still clinging to his foot and removed it. "Ya hurtin' elsewhere?"

"Headache," Tim groaned as he reached for the cold washcloth on his forehead and shifted it to a more painful area instead. "Migraine, most likely. Fever's just a way of my body betraying me into missing the four o'clock meeting."

"It's eight p.m., Timothy. You did miss the meeting," Damian informed him getting comfortable sitting on the back of the furnite looking down at him. "Fortunately for you, I make it a habit of studying the presentations you send aforehand and was able to replace you for the time being."

"Ah, crud," Tim cussed softly, eyes no longer able to remain open. Jason had started rubbing his feet, pressing into the soles with regular intervals. "Anythin' ya need from us?"

"Peace and quiet," Tim grumbled and reached for Dick's hand to squeeze at. The pout on the man's face vanished only a tad at the affectionate gesture.

"I forgot you always get cranky when ill," Dick complained bringing their hands to his mouth to pepper Tim's hand with kisses. "How about you get to bed, hmm? Get out of these clothes and into nice comfy ones?"

The hum from Tim's throat sounded interested. "Ya can wear my sweatshirt, the one with the penguin," Jason said to sweeten the deal, rubbing at his ankles now.

"As great as that sounds. My body has become one with this couch. Alas, I am forever furniture," Tim mumbled forfeiting all energy to his limbs and going limp. 

Damian released a theatrical sigh at the display. "Fine, you spoiled _infant_. I will carry you there," he offered narrowing eyes at the sliver of blue peeking at him through thick eyelashes.

"Please do," Tim smiled raising his hands and wrapping them around Damian's neck. The man lifted him, -pressed their foreheads together and frowned at the heat he sensed. 

"Should have heeded my warning this morning, beloved," he whispered as they and their lovers ventured to their private quarters.

"Can you lecture me tomorrow? I'm too exhausted to actually do anything productive with it," Tim requested as he was lowered to the bed. 

Dick fawned over him immediately, pulling at his socks and pants, unbottoning his dress shirt and rummaging through the mess in their closet. "One penguin sweatshirt and one flannel pyjama pants." Dick announced proudly presenting both items.

"I'm not one to judge, but that combination's terrible," Jason commented eyeing the mishmash of colours and patterns adorning Tim's body once he was dressed again.

"Doesn't matter, no one important will see," Tim quipped tiredly, sneaking underneath the blankets to hide himself from his nose to his toes.

"Wow, ouch? We got to lower that fever and the sass, got any pills for that?" Jason laughed leaning over to kiss Tim's sweaty forehead while Damian scouted their bathroom for medicine.

"Want to cuddle, Timmy?" Dick was already halfway underneath the covers with him when he nodded. The pressure of Dick's embraces in bed were always just right. Not too loose and not too tight. A good ammount warmth and security to ease his mind and lure his mind to sleep.

"Swallow these first," Damian instructed with a glass off water.

Tim hid his face in Dick's chest and protested vocally though unintelligably. 

"Not this again. Richard, you know what to do."

"Traitor!" Tim exclaimed as Dick manhandled his back to his chest, opening his front for the impending large Jason hand that grabbed his chin.

"I swear, it's easier to feed pills to a dog," Jason muttered prodding calloused digits to chapped lips. "Maybe we should use some peanut butter. Open up, pretty bird."

"You know my view on medicine," Tim warned, all bark and no bite.

"We do, Timmy, but this will make you feel better," Dick explained as if he was five years old.

Tim had enough energy left to roll his eyes. "I'm sure you can find different ways to make me feel better."

"Plenty, but not as effective. Now drink," Jason planted two pills in Tim's mouth and took the glass from Damian's hand, tilting it back without pause. Tim, not one to ever eat or drink in bed, because what if he got stains and crumbs in there, super gross, was forced to keep up with the tsunami to his mouth. The pills went down reluctantly.

"I don't like you right now," Tim stated grumpily. "None of you."

Jason shrugged a shoulder. "We're not the lovers you need, but the lovers you deserve."

Dick laughed merrily, nuzzling Tim's hair while Damian shut off the lights, casting them in darkness where the three men watched and waited for Tim's breathing to slow. Only when Dick nodded at them did Jason and Damian remove themselves from the bed.

"I'll take the couch," Jason whispered grabbing a pillow. 

"I concur," Damian followed leaving them surprised.

"But, Dami, you despise the fold out bed couchy thing?" Dick whispered after him as he walked by.

"I do, but Timothy needs the least ammount of distractions and your presence should suffice for warmth and comfort," the youngest man responded.

"That's so sweet," Jason cooed pinching Damian's cheek. "Ya feelin' guilty for yellin' at him this morning, don't ya?" 

Damian brought two fingers to Jason's nostrils. Neither of them would give in to the uncomfortable pain and Damian's silence was enough confirmation that Dick chuckled, shaking Tim lightly in his sleep. It didn't wake him, but their oldest motioned for them to leave.

"Be silly elsewhere," he shooed, smiling. "Love you, good night."

Jason grinned and Damian nodded, both returning the words of affection without hesitance.


	17. Bound and gagged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 11 of the Bad Things Happen Bingo where DickJayTimDami experience 25 unfortunate events.
> 
> Slade wants to play and Batman has so many toys to pick from.
> 
> Rated [T] for violence and language.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by:  
> 
> 
> Took me some time to write this one, mainly because I am unfamiliar with Deathstroke's personality and the Sladin dynamics. Also, I didn't want to go into abusive territory as I've read in a lot of Sladin fanfics (as research, sweet, sweet research) so I kept it more on the funny flirty side. Let me know what you think of my interpretation and if you'd like to see Slade make a come back in any of the other BTH prompts or a stand-alone prompt within this collection!  
>    
> What's next?  
> Want a say in what comes next and add some personal wishes to them?  
> Check out the bingo card in the first chapter and leave a comment in the section below!

Slade wasn't unfamiliar with them. Dick trained his daughter Rose while in the disguise of Nightwing. Red Hood once tried to hurt him while on a merc job, with the emphasize on try, because they both knew Slade was the better swordsman. He had to give it to the man however, once it was clear his daughter was in danger, a shortlived though fruitful cooperation had been the result of a violent evening. Damian Wayne, he knew also. He knew him better as Damian al Ghul. There once was a time when Ra's had looked at him and thought him worthy of being his successor. It gave him access and information on the League of Shadows despite his decline of the offer. Many times had Slade provided assistence to the League's cause, in return for shelter and finances. Damian had been but a cub when they had first met, which Slade doubted the now young adult could even recall.

That would only leave Timothy Drake-Wayne as a somewhat unfamiliar person of interest. Except he was not. Ra's wasn't one to kiss and tell, but Slade was not a moron and it was evident that the Demon's Head was quite fond of the fragile yet deadly intelligent little bird. Hurting him would cause a world of trouble, he reckoned, moreso than if he were to cut his grandson. He had on several occasions witnessed a private conversation between the immortal man and young devoted Red Robin. It was amusing how easily the boy could fend off Ra's charm with a sharp smile and a motion of his hand as if not speaking to one of the most influential and lethal men on the planet. Ra's allowed himself to be pulled into passive agressive banter time and time again. Maybe one of the man's kinks, who knew. Slade wouldn't judge them, however. Couldn't without calling himself a hypocrite. He had a boytoy of his own, after all.

Family gatherings in the Cave were a rare occassion and therefor never any fun.

Jason was last to arrive, and he wondered if Bruce thought it was on purpose, to get under his skin, but when he descended the staircase and ventured further to the computer, Bruce was actually looking somewhat relieved.

"Jason! What's wrong with you, why is your comm off?" Dick marched towards him with furrowed brows and a finger that threatened to prod his chest.

"Relax, babe. Had a rough night." He held up the remains of his broken helmet as exhibit A and winced at the tender flesh underneath Dick's hand that came to rest on his chest as exhibit B.

"More criminals on your turf than usual?" An otherwise silent Tim asked preoccupied with running code on the main computer. Bruce stood behind him with a hand on the chair that clenched tightly, the only sign that gave away his anger.

"There's been a development," Bruce explained before Jason could react. "Someone put a hit out on Red Hood and Robin three hours ago." Their father's eyes shifted to the brooding mess training on the lower grounds of the cave, just a little to their right. Frustration fueled punches pummeled the practice dummy and drove a knife through its chest.   
Jason would have whistled at his lover's ferocity, but Dick tugging at his hand and hovering around in his personal space looking anything but pleased was kind of distracting. He raised a hand and ran it through the man's hair to sooth him.

"Any idea who sent the party invitations?" He asked gathering Dick in an embrace.

Bruce turned to face Tim's ongoing search. "It's clear who took the hits, not yet who placed them. Meaning it's someone who has done this before and knows how to hide their identity well," Tim offered as an answer, leaning back in the chair underneath Bruce's towering figure. "I could take a guess or two, but it won't be backed with evidence."

"Might be a common enemy?" Dick suggested reflecting on the fact that two of his three lovers were currently being hunted.

"Most likely," their father concurred. His eyes narrowed as Tim pulled up the notifications describing the hit on Red Hood and Robin. The payment was laughable, and the only clue Bruce needed.

"There's only five thousand on your persona," Bruce explained catching Jason's eyes before turning to review Damian's handywork on the remaining practice equipment. "And only twothousand fivehundred on Damian." It was enough money to rally gangs on them, but not enough to make them a proper target for the professionals in the field unless they already had good reason to kill them. With the wrath of Batman as a consequence however, most wouldn't jump at this opportunity.

Another dummy went flying through the cave with a mighty kick. Damian was breathing harshly, fists white knuckled at his side. "The mockery will cost them dearly," the youngest vigilante snapped vehemently.

"We will find them. In the meantime I will wipe your hits off the more obvious places in the dark web, keep more from coming," Tim promised with lightening fast fingers flying over the keyboard, eyes enlarged and unblinking as he accepted the challenge to secure his lovers' safety.

"In the meantime you are both benched," Bruce added.

Jason snorted obnoxiously. "Ya kiddin' right? I can handle myself, so can baby bat."

"I don't question your competence to fend off the lowlife thugs," their father reasoned watching realization form on his oldest son's face. 

"You think it's **him**?" Dick asked quietly, silencing the entire cave. Damian had removed himself from the training grounds and traversed closer with curious eyes. Even Tim had paused his typing, eyes shifting to the side to regard their oldest. He sighed at the prospect and resumed his quest.

" _Douchestroke_ , huh? That's fine. Two can play that game," Jason announced with a tilt of his head towards Damian's murderous intent seeping across the floor and towards them at the sound of the mercenaries petname. The two men would not back down from the confrontation. "Or three."

"Which is exactly why he has put a hit on the both of you instead of on me and Tim," Dick complained flicking Jason's ear.

"Precisely his thinking. Things are never what they seem with that man. Do not indulge him." Their father had the habit of slipping into Batman mode whenever he sensed danger. He didn't need the cape and cowl to state the urgency, but he needed half his sons to convince the other half not to leap in and get themselves killed.

"Jay, let B and me handle this, okay?" Dick asked sweetly stroking the bulging mass of muscles of the man's arm as he flexed and unflexed his fist.

"Don't need ya to," he grumbled into the kiss Dick initiated. Dirty manipulation. They all saw it, they all knew it. Jason squeezed the man's ass roughly. Dick took it as a victory.  
Damian crossed his arms with a roll of his eyes. He couldn't ignore the fact that if they were to join them on the search, they would compromise the mission. They would only be a distraction if, or rather when, more men came after their bounty. Batman and Nightwing had no targets on their back.

"Just listen to reason for once, beloved," the youngest told the conflicted man and passed them on his way to his father and Tim who heard him nearing and lifted his head to accept the hand that stroked from the top to his neck where it rested comfortably.

"I expect him to be punished," Damian demanded of his father who nodded albeit their definition of punishment differed.

"Just be careful," Tim added as Bruce and Dick went to restock and get back out on the streets. Dick winked and blew him a kiss. Tim chuckled while Damian waved the imaginary smooch away.

"Brat," Dick called him lovingly, walking backwards to see the tiny smile on Damian's face. Their father gruffed for him to hurry along.

"Well, ya better have left me some dummies to hit, sweets." Jason shrugged off his jacket and tossed his helmet aside, cracking his knuckles in preparation to do some damage.  
Two hours later Dick woke to a throbbing pain the back of his head and was accutely aware of the bump residing there. 

"It's been a while, Nightwing," that low pitched selfconfident voice was unforgettable. Dick shut his eyes, inhaled deeply and tried to calm himself. He forced a smile on his face.

"Deathstroke, always a pleasure." 

The man stepped forward from the shadows and rounded his immobilized figure bound on the floor. 

"It always is," the man agreed gently. The mask was removed showing one twinkling eye. "Been pretty hard to get to you lately." 

"That so?" Dick asked not entirely certain where this was going. He resisted the bindings for a second. Too tight to wiggle his way out off. Needed something sharp to cut them with, like a birdarang or one of Slade's weapons. "You could have just called." Dick rolled onto his back to look up properly at the much older man.

Deathstroke crouched at the top of his head, observing him. "Oh yes, you would have gladly answered, wouldn't you?"

"Not if this is a booty call," Dick joked, raising his hips off the ground to distract the man from his search of any and all sharp objects in his suit or the floor beneath him.

"Do you need one, kid?" Slade's face broke out into a shiteating grin. 

Dick laughed honestly at their situation. "No, not really. Not from you, anyway."

Slade hummed thoughtfully. "Yeah, because you have your pack of Robins."

That took the joy right out of his eyes. His lips however, stayed curled upwards turning his smile into something dangerous.

"Don't know what you mean," he feigned interest, batting his long eyelashes.

"Riiiiight. Must have been my imagination then. I am getting old," Deathstroke drawled unconvinced. "I always figured you'd get with the youngest bird, but you just can't help yourself, can you? Got to be greedy and take them all, huh? They any good?" 

Dick shook his head with blood boiling in his veins. Slade may claim to know him better than he thinks he does, but he would never understand how much Dick had grown as a person because of Jason, Tim and Damian, each offering him problems and solutions that made him stronger, more resilient. Even so, he wouldn't give the man the satisfaction of confirm his suspicion.

"They are my brothers."

"Is that so?" Slade looked bemused at the scene before him, of a Nightwing caught in his trap of ropes. Within the blink of an eye a knife was revealed from Slade's suit, the very tip pressing into Dick's cheek. The cold metal nor the threat made him flinch. Unperturbed, Dick lay and waited for the man's next move, his eyes on him instead of the weapon.

"You seem to have the impression that I won't hurt you. Thing is, kid, I can and I will. And you make it entirely too easy to, with your collection of birds."

The widening of Dick's pupils was a reflex he couldn't disguise. "Leave them out of this. This is between us," Dick growled against the bindings keeping him in place.

"Nah, it used to be just you and me. Now I have Robin numbers 2 through 4 meddling with my business whenever I come visit you in Blüdhaven. It's most annoying." The older man complained revealing a red cloth from his belt of resources.

Dick's perplexed expression made him chuckle. "Every time you.. what?"

"C'mere, kid. Enough of your talking." There was little resistence he could offer to stop Slade from binding the cloth around his face, successfully gagging him. "I had fun with the Titans a lot, remember? What makes you think your Robins are any different?"

They had set him up, had lured him into a state of vulnerability and left him behind. 

Tim blinked heavy eyelids as he woke from a short slumber in one of the cave's bunkbeds. "Damian?" He murmured stretching his body lazily. Where was his lover he had been cuddling with? Once his brain functions were back online, his first thought was that of betrayal and anger. Bare feet patted on the cold stone floor to the training section.   
Deserted, as was the rest of the cave, Tim found out minutes later as he searched with growing murderous intent.

"Those assholes," he cussed forcefully planting himself back in the giant chair of the batcomputer. He slammed at the keyboard, giving it the command to show him the city's blueprint and the current location of Red Hood's and Robin's tracker. His search was unsuccessful. Tim scratched at his chin. 

"Blüdhaven, of course," the man muttered, adjusting his prefered location and sighing at the dots appearing on the grid. They were closing in on Dick's unmoving destination. Tim grabbed a headset, snapped the microfone in place over his mouth and connected them.

"You two idiots do know this is a trap, right?" He asked right of the bat.

"We'll make it up to ya, baby," Red Hood soothed him sounding out of breath.

"You do realize this is exactly what Slade wants?" Tim emphasized putting his head on his hands.

"Richard hasn't responded for over an hour, beloved," Robin attempted to clarify their decision of fooling him.

"You could have informed Bruce," Tim protested weakly, because who was he kidding? He would have done the same thing. It was the very reason he was currently shaking with anger: because his lovers had not taken into account Tim would feel the same need to protect Dick. They gave no responds.

"So, how many do you have on your tail?" the smallest man of their relationship quipped with fake enthusiasm hacking his way into Blüdhaven CCTV.

"Enough for our plan to work," Red Hood could be heard grinning.

"Do enlighten me."

"Figured we'd bring the fight to him, get our Dickie out during the choas."

"You expect him to let you go that easily?"

"No. I expect a proper fight," Robin answered this time sounding more than ready to put the older man to the test.

"I'm sending Batman Nightwing's coördinates," Tim stated accessing the live feed on the street and holding his breath at the horde of criminals following his lovers through the back alleys. There was no protest to the idea, good.

"Knock, knock!" Red Hood called as he crashed through a window with Robin and several thugs in tow. The vigilantes rolled to their feet easily. The same couldn't be said for the other men.

Dick raised his head off the ground, relieved and concerned at the same time at the sight of more and more men forcing their way into the building. Deathstroke forced his knife into the floorboards to empty his hands for his swords. The mask was put back in place but not before he could regard the vigilantes with a grin.

"Red Hood, Robin, how nice of you to join us." He took no interest in the criminals throwing themselves at the two men. Robin dodged a punch, grabbed the thug's arm and swung him none too gently in Deathstroke's direction. The man stepped aside and winced at the smack followed by breaking bones, probably a nose. "Ouch. You're in a foul mood today."

Red Hood floored two men smashing their heads together and dropping them at his feet. He shot a rubber bullet in the chest of another then turned and held Deathstroke in his line of fire. "Next one's your name on it, Strokey."

"No, it doesn't," came an all too familiar gruff voice from the bulky figure swinging through the broken window.

Red Hood could hear Robin flicking his tongue behind him and the next thug received an extra harsh uppercut to the jaw. "This isn't your fight," Red Hood told him still aiming his gun where he wanted his next bullet to go to most. 

Batman turned a silent stare to the group of men behind him. The criminals cowered back behind the other two vigilantes. Robin scowled at their reaction and took the advantage of the distraction to go low and sweep three more men off their feet and on their backs with a twirl of his body and long his leg. "Cowards," he seethed with venom.

Nightwing wiggled on the ground at the entrance of their father and could be seen grinning around his gag. "You ahe 'n smuch tloubl," he spoke to Deathstroke tauntingly with a childish excitement in his eyes. Joy made his chest warm: his lovers and father had come to his rescue and none seemed too pleased by his immobility which meant a good spanking was ahead. "Shut up kid," he kicked Nightwing's shoulder. The begrudged touch released a poorly contained snort from the acrobat flopping on the floor like a fish on dry land.

"Deathstroke." Batman's articulation of the name was slow as he turned back to the villian amidst them. "You threaten not one but three of my agents." The man took a step forward, unperturbed by the swift motion of Deathstroke's feet skipping to linger over Nightwing's vibrating figure.

"Figured I needed something extravagant to impose on your busy schedule tonight," the man drawled behind his mask, lowering the tip of his sword to his hostage whose trembling had nothing to do with fear. Deathstroke glanced down to the enormous grin poking around the gagging and grunted. 

"You have my full attention," Batman accounced with a hand signal to his sons as he leapt forward and straight into battle with Deathstroke.

"Good damn it, B. Move your ass!" Red Hood bellowed aiming left and right still pretty devoted to shoot the hell out of their lover's kidnapper. No such look was given as Batman brawled hand-to-hand with Deathstroke having knocked his swords out of his hands with severel batarangs. He kept his caped back, broad and imprenetrable to his shoot crazy son.

"Move yours, Hood. Get Nightwing out of here," Tim's frustrated voice penetrated his ear. 

Robin rushed out from his right and stormed at a group of four men surrounding Nightwing. The last stand, the final barrier, and it was pathetic. Robin took a satisfying moment to crunch a fallen man's face underneath his boot. He turned and crouched over his lover's body with a sigh. "This is embarrassing, beloved," he told the grinning man who shrugged a shoulder and batted his eyes pleading to be released.

"Thanks baby bat. Should we provide assistance, B?" Dick asked once free of his bindings and stretching his limbs to warm up for a group attack on Deathstroke.

Gloved hands took a firm hold of the mentioned villian and threw him to the nearest wall where he vanished through broken plaster and wood. Batman inhaled and pointed to the window without a word.

"I think he's got it covered," Red Hood answered holstering his guns.

"So he was after Dick this whole time?" Jason asked once they were back at the cave and Alfred was giving the man a once over, checking for inner injuries as he found none on the surface except for scrapes and bruises.

"Not really. I was just there for his amusement," Dick explained rubbing at the corner of his mouth. A burning sensation lingered there, one Damian stepped up to kiss away with gentle presses of his lips. Dick smiled and hummed into his mouth, gathering Damian's larger frame in his arms. "Thanks for the rescue, Dami."

"How did he succeed to best you, beloved?"

Dick laughed loudly, obnoxiously enough for Tim to roll his eyes. "Let's not talk about it."

The matter was dismissed by three pair of judgemental eyes and a sighing butler leaving the cave.

"What matters most is that you are safe," Dick followed up, cupping Damian's cheeks in his hands. He kissed him once more and then waved Jason over. The taller one refused the command and stuck with Tim at the computer, seating his ass on the panel without a care. Tim snickered at the rebellion and got his hair ruffled by a large calloused hand.

Dick pouted, but resumed nonetheless. "And you're also safe, and I'm safe. Tim wiped the internet clean of your bounty and Bruce is probably delivering Slade to Belle Reve as we speak."

"Or not," Tim mused softly to himself eyeing the live feed from Blüdhaven CCTV where Batman and Deathstroke had taken their fight to the street. They said nothing of the obvious: Bruce was prolonging the fight, hitting softer spots instead of going for the critical punches.

Damian turned a blind eye to it but not without a little smile. Maybe his sense for revenge wasn't entirely an Al Ghul thing.


	18. Blood stained clothes (1/4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 12 of the Bad Things Happen Bingo where DickJayTimDami experience 25 unfortunate events.
> 
> Jason has a ferocity that Damian is all too familiar with and he isn't blind to the consequences of it. Dick and Tim might not understand, but he does. Jason just doesn't know yet. Part 1/4.
> 
> Rated [M] for violence, blood and language.

Tonight was a quiet patrol for Robin. No active leads, no suspicious movement on the streets, there was hardly anything worth his attention. It motivated him to venture beyond his assigned sectors, seeking what he needed to make for a useful night out.

The one place in Gotham that would never disappoint a vigilante's hunger for work was Crime Alley. There was a group of teenagers circling a man when Robin arrived, just as he had imagined. He swept down with the prospect to aid the person in need, but laid low in the shadows as the victim began defending themselves. Quite impressively, juggling pizza boxes even. A delivery guy, tall and capable of knocking away a knife single handedly when one of the teenagers stepped forward to threaten him.

"Look, kids. Ya can have a box, but that's it. Take it, or leave with your asses spanked."

Several teens appeared persuaded, but not the pack leader who snarked something about beating up his ass if they didn't give them all the boxes, and his wallet too.

Robin crossed his arms and leaned back to watch the progress. The teenagers charged, some ran away at the idea of getting punched, and eventually those who stayed did get a few bruises to nurse as they scurried off.

"That was almost impressive," Robin told the man stepping out into the poor lightening from the street lights and into Jason's line of sight.

"Shit, sweets. Could have used the help," Jason grunted at him squating down to inspect the single box that had fallen from his grip. He opened the lid and hummed at the scrambled content. It should still be good as long as he delivered the pizza within 30 minutes.

"There was no doubt in my mind you couldn't handle four teenagers. Most of them fled."

"Yeah, well. Maybe seein' your scowling face would have scared them all off. Now I had to beat up piss poor teens who were just starvin', no big deal."  
Robin's smirk fell instantly. "This occurs frequently?"

"Moreoften than I'd like. Co-workers got it worse," Jason admitted taking the darker route through the neighbourhood for Robin to join him on his way to his next customer without the general public noticing him. "Actually the reason I started workin' there."

"Red Hood patrolling their routes at night should be enough," Robin contemplated beside him.

"Yeah, but they're mostly kids, ya know, and there's a lot of 'em. I can't be at four places at once. I figured if I got in, I got easy access to the dilvery routes every night, figure out which spots get hit the most, go from there."

"Red Robin could have hacked their system for you instead." Robin opted once more.

Jason gave a small frustrated sigh and turned to the younger man. "Wait here," he told him and continued by himself, jogging up to the front door of a three story flat and running the bell of the number scrimbled on his receipt. The exchange between pizza and money was none too interesting. Robin scoffed at the fact Jason hid the ruined pizza at the bottom of the pile but held his tongue awaiting his lover's return.

Pocketing the money in his jeans, Jason slipped around the corner and right into Robin's personal space, crowding him against the brick wall of the alley. "Got a few minutes of spare time," Jason informed him with a toothy grin.

Robin pursed his lips in thought, Jason seizing them quickly. The youngest groaned against the pressure of his hips, resisted to grind against his bulky form and pulled Jason's face from his with a gloved hand in the man's hair.

"Tell me the truth. What are your doing in that stinking pizza joint?" Robin demanded with a hoarse voice. His body was quick to respond to Jason's advances, familiar with the pleasure that could come if he indulged him.

Jason's smoldering look simmered down with another tug on the back of his head. "I love pizza?" The man opted cheekily.

The white lenses of Robin's mask narrowed. " **Richard** loves pizza. Try again."

With the change of Jason's body language, the closing of his eyes and the deflating of his broad posture, Robin released his hair and waited. Jason, still being several inches taller than his lover, placed his forearms on the wall above Robin's head. The little space left between them could be suffocating, but not for Damian who removed his mask at the long pause of silence combined with the serious look on Jason's face.

"Beloved, what is it?" He tried again on a much softer tone.

"Ya remember that night when ya thought I was bleedin' to death?"

Damian wrinkled his nose at the memory. It was an exaggeration of course, but it had rattled him nonetheless.

It was a week night, around eleven p.m. and Damian was at their appartment, knowing Jason would come home soon from his shift at work. He had surprised the Titans by taking a few nights off from the team, time he wanted to spend with his lovers in Gotham after many lonesome nights away from home. Damian had realized then and there on the ratty couch Jason had dragged in that his definition of home had expanded gradually, but would most likely be wherever his brothers could gather without concern. 

The genuine start of a smile on his face had only lasted so long, because a second later keys were rattling at the door and he turned to the sight of Jason, covered in what could only be blood. There was too much of it not to be alarmed.

"Yep, it's all mine," Jason gruffed instantly at the concern on his lover's face. The younger man approached him with haste, inspecting his bloodied knuckles and the traces of it on his jeans, shirt and jacket. There were a cuts on his legs and lower arms. The fact he wasn't suited up only concerned him further, because Jason was not one to seek fights without proper protection of his identity.

"Were you ambushed?" Damian inquired as he followed him into the bathroom where Jason removed bloodied clothes and shoes. His eyes fell on the trail of red liquid across the floor.

"Nah, someone else was. Couldn't stand around so I decided to lend a hand. They were sneaky little bastards," Jason answered once he was left standing in his socks and underwear bringing his hands to the faucet to rinse them.

"They were children?" Damian concluded with a tilt of his head. It made sense for Jason to allow himself this much damage if his opponents were ones he didn't wish to harm.

"Crime alley kids," Jason clarified wincing lightly at pressure against the tender flesh of his knuckles. "Pretty impressive stunt they pulled though. Had me convinced right away."

Damian nudged the man's blood stained clothes to the side and went in search for antiseptics, bandages and painkillers.

The door to their appartment opened and closed. Silence was all they heard followed by quick steps in their directioin. "What happened?" An alarmed Tim in business suit had tracked the blood to the bathroom and eyed the two with bewilderment. "You were taking the night off," he told both of them. "We all were, what happened?" Tim asked again without pause.

"Some punks fakin' a robbery on their own gang to get bystandin' people involved and steal their wallets instead," Jason explained without a hurry, hoping his calm would soon transfer to their smallest lover whose hands were twitching at the sight of the pile of clothes on the floor.

"At least tell them you apprehended them all."

"Eeh.."

"Jason." 

"Beloved."

"What?"

Damian slapped a bandaid on a niche in Jason's skin. "Your reluctance is understandable. You feel for them, we all do, but this won't do."

Tim loosened the tie around his neck at the scowl on Jason's face. How could anyone forget the neighbourhood Jason originated from? No one could, not with the daily news flashes highlighting muggings, murder and assault. That sector was one of Batman's most active areas of patrol, one Jason had claimed a long time ago with the promise he'd lower the percentages if given the chance to do it his way. Tim had seen the figures drop over the years, but what exactly was Jason's strategy? He hadn't dared to get involved, Jason was always defensive and even possessive when it came to Crime Alley, and Tim didn't want to fight him over it. Until today.

"Let me help. Neon Knights can offer-" Tim started with reminding them his public persona's project was not just a cover up, but an actual helpful tool.

"Exactly nothing," Jason interupted before he could finish.

"You could have just said 'no thank you'," Tim snarked at him with ruffled feathers. It wasn't often his aid was turned down, especially because he was their tactical expert. It was evidently something Tim was unfamiliar with. He turned on his feet to rummage in the kitchen for leftovers to distract himself with.

"Beloved," Damian started in the hopes of convincing Jason to hear Tim out. "Timothy has proven the worth of Neon Knights. It might not be the best solution, however, it can provide assistance--"

Jason raised a dismissive hand, gesturing for him to stop already. He wasn't having it, not tonight. "I got this, sweets. Just gimme some time, and more of those bandages," Jason twisted his arm to inspect the cut one of the little shits had given him.

The next bandages was applied with much more care. Trust and loyalty ran deep in Damian's veins and Jason was appealing to these traits, making it difficult to protest. Damian  
had not spoken of it for two months, and here they were.

"I recall you telling me you'd handle it. Have you?" Damian asked curiously and with a hint of Batman in his voice.

Jason was silent. A shrug, a scratch at his chin, eyes avoiding his. Damian rested his head against the bricks and flicked his tongue.

"Let us help."

"Ya can't, ya don't understand what drives those kids to do what's necessary to survive," Jason countered only to see a hint of regret on Damian's face. 

The tallest man became aware of the implication too late, lowering a hand to stroke the other's cheek. Of course Damian did, painfully so. How could he have forgotten that? No, not forgotten, there was never a moment where he laid eyes on his youngest lover and didn't marvel at the hurdles he had overcome to be the best version of himself that he was today. Had he been fooled to believe it hadn't been so bad afterall while Damian presented his persona as a well mannered, intelligent young adult? And what of Tim? And Dick? Pensive, controling Tim. Possessive, fussy Dick. Were their worst habits not caused by a childhood as unjustified as those of the Crime Alley kids? Different stories, different outcomes, of course, but a clear understanding of the consequences of having to live through tough times at a young age.

"Ah shit," he cussed under his breath, resting his forehead against Damian's. "I'm an asshole, aren't I?"

"Yes," Damian agreed too quickly for Jason not to laugh at his honesty.

"What has Tim been doing again? Pink nights?"

Damian rolled his eyes. " _Neon Knights_ , you moron."

"Yeah, that. Maybe give baby bird a call and see what he can do."

"Better inform Richard or he might feel left out," Damian reminded Jason as they fell into an embrace. He could feel the man's apology in the tightness of the arms around his shoulders.

"We'll give him a minor thing to do, make him feel needed," Jason joked with words of truth hidden among them. "Perhaps even call him **big brother** , just to stroke his ego."

There never was a call. Both Tim and Dick were astonished by the fact that one month later they received a phone call from Damian requesting their presence at their appartment because Jason had gone without them.

"I thought this was just a bunch of kids?" Dick questioned once the three of them had geared up in the safety of their bedroom. 

"Leave it to Jason to not give us all the details," Tim muttered with one final check of his belt's inventory.

Perhaps there had been no more details to give, Damian thought quietly as he waited for his brothers. Their short moment in the alley several weeks back had convinced him Jason would seek their help, not be stubborn and let them do what they did best: Tim hacking whatever system was necessary, Damian infiltrating whatever location their base was, Dick either going undercover or providing an elaborate distraction. This was why they were a team.

They did just that to get to Red Hood. The man had left no clues for them to follow, but Red Robin was quick to track him down and the abandoned warehouse was poorly equipped to keep Robin from sneaking in to analyze the situation on the inside while Dick pulled up a truck with some of Tim's old electronics saying this was the adress he was supposed to deliver them, and he wasn't leaving without cash. A small commotion was set in motion by Dick's extravagant acting, one that lured most of the curious teenagers to the front windows to sneak a look at the loud idiot outside. It left the back of the warehouse understaffed. Robin moved in, taking cover behind crates and corners just in case someone was doing their actual job. His guard tightened at the sight of blood on the floor. It was freshly spilled, there was no doubt in his mind that this had been a quick, silent attack not befitting the man they were looking for. Which was why his surprise at finding Red Hood as the attacker was that much bigger.

Robin halted in the doorway, one hand on the hilt of his sword, the other reaching for a birdarang. Behind the bulk of Red Hood's slounched figure stood a chair with a man slummed in it. There was a pool of blood forming at one of the legs.

"Did you handle it?" Robin asked as he had done that night in the alley.

A slow turn of that familiar red helmet. Two large bloodied hands reached up to remove it so that their eyes could meet, Robin squinting in white lenses.

"Yeah," Jason breathed out, exhausted and a touch disoriented as he looked back at the limp body tied to the chair. "I handled it," he added wanting to wipe his hands on his uniform and finding no clean space left to do so. Looking down at himself, his breathing stuttered at the bright colour covering him fully.

"Did you kill him?" Robin asked, still in the doorway and unmoving. His hands wouldn't retreat from his weapons, his body perceiving Jason as a possible threat. This intuitive reaction clenched his heart and sharpened his senses. It had been months, since he had last witnessed Jason in any kind of blood thurst. No harm would become him, he was certain of it, but he couldn't let the man hurt anyone else, not if they wanted to get out of here without Batman coming after them.

Jason kicked one of the man's boots. No responds. He hummed in thought. "I don't think so," he answered genuinely uncertain, but obviously not caring as he turned and approached the other vigilante, wanting to pass him, but not being permitted.

The lenses of his mask shifted, icy blue eyes meeting teal ones. "There were other options. Why choose this one?"

The disappointment in his voice caused Jason to flinch. "Look, I didn't plan to be here t'night, okay? Shit happened at the pizza joint, kids went missin' and I tracked a group of brats here, is all."

"You could have called in for backup during that timeline," Damian insisted but without anger. His eyes fell to Jason's large hands. They were trembling, if only lightly. "What happened after you got here? What did you do to that man?"

They both looked back at the bruises and blood on the criminal's face, the tight zipties on his wrists and ankles. Jason took a moment, swallowed his dry throat and shrugged. "I don't know. I just.. wanted to hurt him."

Damian moved aside for his lover to pass and followed after him. He understood, better than any of his family probably could. Anger channeled into violence was a dangerous practice, one that often resulted in lethal action. He had practiced it often when he was younger.

"Don't tell them," he whispered to Jason's back as they snuck out a window. 

"Ya want me to lie?" Jason asked under his breath, guarded and confused. 

Damian motioned for him to remove his jacket where most of the blood had gathered. He tossed it in the garbage to their left and crowded Jason to the wall much like he had done to Damian several weeks ago.

"They won't understand what drove you to do this," Damian explained hearing Dick's van approach. Jason shook his head, the struggle visible in his expression. Damian grabbed his chin, forced his attention back on him. The display of dominance was uncommon. "That man wouldn't have ceased his operations. More children would have gotten hurt."

"'nother will just take his place," Jason told him with a bitter huff of a laugh.

"Of course. And he will be stopped also, but not by you," Damian insisted, lowering his voice for Dick not to hear. "I am very familiar with the sensation you're experiencing at this moment, Jason. Allow me to guide you through it."

Jason snorted. "Ya got more kills on your name than I do, _demon brat_."

The bite that came with the namecalling didn't cause Damian to flinch. He could meet Jason's venom without breaking a sweat.

"All of which occured years ago. Face it, _Robin-who-is-easily-killed_ , your control is inferior to mine."

When was the last time they had brawled? When was the last time any of his lovers had gotten into a fight? Damian was prepared to go a round albeit a bit perturbed by Dick's presence.

The van's headlights illuminated them in the dark alley. Their anger at each other was hidden only by the proximity of their faces. Dick honked at them. Jason's eyes shifted to the vehicle, face breaking into a grin. He dove forward to capture Damian's lips and forced him to take a step back when rushing his body to his. Damian was overpowered and scowled as Jason jogged up to the van where he indulged Dick's concerned preaching.

"Cops are on their way, clear out," Red Robin's voice announced in their ears.

The actual fight didn't take place until six weeks later, and it wasn't even Damian who had started it. Wasn't even Damian who was initially involved, mind you. His fight with Jason only started _after_ the escalation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by:  
> 
> 
> This took a while because it's actually one of two pieces. I decided to combine two prompts and make a longer drabble (seriously the past nine chapters have been roughly between 1500 and 3000 words, they are not what we'd call drabbles but yeah haha!).
> 
> The second part to this installment is nearly finished so it was time to show you this piece. Sequel coming very soon! :)
> 
> What's next?  
> Want a say in what comes next and add some personal wishes to them?  
> Check out the bingo card in the first chapter and leave a comment in the section below!


	19. Blood from the mouth (2/4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 13 of the Bad Things Happen Bingo where DickJayTimDami experience 25 unfortunate events.
> 
> Jason has a ferocity that Damian is all too familiar with and he isn't blind to the consequences of it. Dick and Tim might not understand, but he does. Jason just doesn't know yet. Part 2/4.
> 
> Rated [M] for violence, blood and language.

There were plenty of burned bridges between them. They had rebuild several, were still building on a few, and had become tolerant of their differences. It's what you did when in a relationship, right? You gathered your thoughts and talked things through, usually.

Tim was at a lost for words when finding Dick at the training grounds of the Batcave nursing a split lip and nudging his jaw. "I think I broke a tooth," the oldest brother suggested and Tim's world was spinning. He had not seen this coming on this quiet evening. Besides, this cave was supposed to be a safe haven.

"You're bleeding," he mentioned calmly as his mind went into overdrive. 

The facade caused Dick to grin and Tim teetered on the edge of his control. "You are **bleeding**! Your mouth, what happened, wait here, don't move!" He scurried to the medbay and retrieved, well, everything basically. Dick regarded him with amusement to cover up the dull ache.

"I'm fine," he said and spit out some blood that had gathered in his mouth. The taste was as horrible as he recalled. "You should see the other guy," Dick joked.

The darkening look on Tim's face silenced him. "What. Other. Guy?"

"Tim-" "Dick, I swear-" "I'm fine, jus-" "Look at you, you're not-" "Why does it matter?" "It was **Jason** , wasn't it?"

Their quick exchange abruptly ended. Dick held his breath as Tim narrowed his eyes.

"Do you take me for an idiot? A kindergarten kid could figure it out. Bruce isn't here, Damian is, but would _never_ hurt you, not even by accident. Jason however," Tim squared his shoulders, having plenty of experience being chased by said when fearing for his life when they were younger. "Jason's... Jason."

"I don't believe kids that age are that clever, Timmy."

"You are ignoring the conversation."

"Oh, am I?"

"Seriously, Dick."

The oldest brother took some cotton wool and stuffed his mouth, raising his shoulders in a helpless gesture. Tim hit him in the chest with the bottle of painkillers.

"Talk to me when you have decided to stop being a man-child," he growled. "And even if you won't talk, Jason will." 

Dick was quick to spit out the content of his mouth. "Tim, don't!" He stood and reached for his retreating form, gathering him in his arms. The embrace that followed was tense and awkward, but melted Tim's determination.

"Let me handle this, okay?" Dick pressed a kiss to his head, nose lingering in his hair.

"He hurt you..." Tim mumbled, teeth gnawing on his lip. "Why would he?"

Their embrace tightened. "Not without good reason," the oldest brother whispered.

"Meaning you **deserved** to be punched in the face? Makes perfect sense."

Dick chuckled. "Timmy, honey, your snark is showing."

"Well, duh," Tim defended and turned to look at him. "Something is wrong, Dick. Jason and Damian haven't been seeing eye to eye, and now _this_. What's going on?"

Why was his family always surprised to hear their secrets have been on Tim's radar all along? They should know by now there is only little that escapes his sight. Were it not for his adoration for Dick, he'd have accussed him of belittling him, underestimating him, as he used to do when he just started as Robin.  
Hands enframed his pale face. Dick looked at him while gathering his thoughts. He was deciding on what to tell him, Tim knew and hated that it meant there was a part of him that would be excluded from the situation.

"Jason and I were sparring," Dick started gesturing to the equipment behind them. "We often try to distract each other, it's a little game we partake in." Tim knew, he had watched them many times, but kept silent. "I was actually joking about Jason's jackets always going missing, and that we should tag them with his name like mommies do for their kids, you know?" Dick gave a laugh, obviously still amused by his own train of thoughts. His laughter died quickly however. "I think I struck a nerve or something. He got quiet, rougher, got me good when I asked him what happened to the last jacket he lost."

"He got angry over a jacket?"

"Maybe, or the fact that he lost it again?"

"He lost it the night at the warehouse in Crime Alley, right?" Tim inquired, eyes enlarged as his mind set to connecting the dots presented to him.

"You got something, Sherlock?" Dick smiled enarmored by his lover's intellect. Excitement sparked between them at the possibility of solving this mystery together, like the good old times.

"Why yes. Watson, we need to find that jacket!" Tim joined in on the reference and they grinned at each other. He took his hand, squeezed it and pulled him along. "Take me to that place. Show me where you picked them up."

It was in the dead of night that Nightwing and Red Robin traversed Gotham's roads on their motorcycles. Nightwing was persuading him into a competition of silly stunts, and Red robin got swept away by his charm and the nostalgia. They cheered and rooted for each other, laughed and applauded, yelled half-hearted apologies at startled citizens who stared after them. 

He was distracting him, trying to ease his concern. Red Robin could see right through him, but appreciated the effort nonetheless. Once they arrived in Crime Alley, their smiles vanished. This was no neighbourhood to take lightly. Nightwing gestured for his lover to follow him to the exact place he had honked at his feisty younger brothers getting in on against the wall, or so he had initially thought. Tim was clever, the most intelligent of their pack, but that didn't automatically mean Dick was only half as bright. His eyesight was perfectly fine as well, and he had perceived the tight grip of Damian's gloved hand on Jason's stubbled jaw. That night he had honked at them not because he wanted to interrupt an intimate moment, but because the tension between them had rolled off of them in waves, visible even to the blind. Always the peacemaker, he hadn't questioned them on their way to the cave, and then time had prolonged the confrontation of the sensitive topic. Nightwing wasn't about to admit that tonight, his joking on Jason's jacket, had been a deliberate move to dig deeper into what had occured.

"Jason has lost six jackets so far this year," Red Robin stated after they parked their vehicles, hid them and continued on foot. "And by lost, I mean that four out six times he did return with it, but it was beyond repair."

Nightwing tilted his head to the side, trying to recall those four times. He nodded, intrigued by this line of thought. "One time, at the docks, he lost it in the water. Didn't bother to dive after it, since it was dark and he had taken a bullet to the shoulder," the oldest vigilante added.

At the corner of their destination they stopped. Red Robin peeked around it, Nightwing checking their six o'clock. No hostiles so far. Seemed like the place had been abondoned after Red Hood's interruption, after all. Or they had simply relocated, as was mostly the case.

"We don't actually know what happened to the last jacket he lost," Red Robin opted as they crept closer to the window that he had personally picked for Robin to enter through. It had been the best option, an entry point close to the back of the room where only few would linger with Dick providing a distraction at the front. Robin had only affirmed his command of using the window that night. It did his ego good to be trusted by his brothers like that, without question. Didn't mean he didn't have questions for them, however.

"You saw them climbing through?"

"Nope, they were already here when I drove up."

"With or without jacket?"

Nightwing squinted his lenses in thought. "Without."

The garbage was the first obvious option to search and it provided them with the exact item of their quest. "Here it is," Red Robin announced having found it behind a dumpster where several garbage cans had been knocked over. It wasn't uncommon for the poor to rummage through them in search for food or useable objects. Seemed like no one wanted this piece of attire. And who could blame them?

"God. It's covered in blood," Nightwing deducted as he walked closer. "Jason hardly a scratch on him that night."

Red Robin asked the question that bothered them most. "Then whose is it?" 

The computer in the Batcave had all the answers. This fact alone sent shivers down their spines, started beads of sweat along Tim's brow. If the computer knew, if its database had the blood sample then of course, without a doubt, Bruce was aware of what had transpired. 

"It's all there," Tim mumbled to a flabbergasted Dick behind him, body growing heavy as he leaned on the big chair. "Name, blood type, criminal record... hospital record. You name it."

"Christ, what is he keeping quiet for?" Dick ran a hand through his hair and resisted to the urge dash up the stairs into the man's study where he knew their father was occupied with Wayne Enterprises papers to sign. A pensive Batman was perhaps even more terrifying than an enraged one.

The brothers shared a troubled look. Tim licked his chapped lips as he reached for his phone, his private one, and started typing a message that created a sighing mess out of his older lover behind him. They had to talk, he understood, but nothing could prepare him for it. Dick gave a nod before Tim sent it and gathered the smaller man into his arms. His nose found Tim's unruly hair both of them reeking of sweat and grime. The familiarity of it, however, soothed his nerves and straightened his shoulders. Hardship lay ahead, and he wouldn't allow it to break them.

Dick winced at the photo frame bouncing off the wall with the force of Tim's kick to Jason's chest, sending the man stumbling back into it. The fragile thing clattered on the hard wood floor, glass still intact. A sign? Dick wished it to be a sign. They would get through this, if he could stop Tim and Jason from tearing each other appart. 

"Don't think I won't hurt ya if ya keep this up," Jason growled to a sneering Tim.

"Oh yeah? Like you punched Dick in the face? What is a tooth or two to you, hmm?" 

"That was different," Dick tried to suss the situation without success. He rubbed his jaw and the crust on his lip unconsciously. "An accident."

"No it wasn't." Tim snapped at him, "You can't just punch people into silence. That's **abuse** , not an accident."

Jason's frame grew larger at the accusation, mouth falling open with a baffled look that morphed into something dangerous. "Ya don't know what physical abuse looks like, Richie Rich."

"Wanna bet?" Tim threw right back at him. Dick was convinced this was where the fistfight actually erupted, but Jason pressed himself back against the wall, fists balled. Thank God, he thought turning to Tim to persuade him to sit down for a moment. Tim wasn't having any of it, however. He was on a roll, eyes ablaze, teeth bared and ready to bite with the memory of Dick's cut lip, teeth rendered red while spitting blood.

"Or you going to beat me to a pulp like you did that man, huh? That guy is still in intensive care with slim chances of ever waking up. If that's what you have in mind for me, let me say bye to my friends and family first real quick, okay?"

Dick sputtered at the prospect of it. Alarm bells, red flags, sirens everywhere. This was not a drill, people! "Tim, the hell-- calm down! Jason, don't do it," he waved his arms restlessly between them. Jason raised his fists and popped a few knuckles.

"You dimwit!" Tim shouted eyes enlarged with emotion that made his hands tremble, Dick invisible to him. "We had it all planned out, there was no reason for you to go in alone! And yet you did, because you are as stubborn as.. as..!" 

Jason cupped his ear, waiting for another insult. Tim clenched his jaws at the display.

"An **ass**." Tim settled on through gritted teeth.

"Shot to the heart!" Jason sang theatrically, gripping his shirt where his heart was genuinely aching and pounding and sending him into a state of hyper awareness.

"This isn't a joking matter, Jay." Dick reprimanded him with a look of disappointment. Jason snarled at him for it.

The oldest crouched and took their photo frame, eyes falling on the domestic display of four grown men stuffed together on the couch, their couch in their appartment. "You're better than this."

Jason laughed. Dick closed his eyes at the bitter tone of it.

"Nah, I'm not. 'Tis time ya get it through that thick head. What ya see is what ya get."

Arms spread like an eagle, he awaited Tim's reaction and dared him to lie and tell him otherwise. He knew it, they knew it: this was what it meant to be Jason Todd, and nothing was going to change that. During the years his temper and fury had become managable, they thought. Jason had always known better. There it lurked, underneath the wavering field of his control. For a broad and muscular man, Jason could easily be broken. His restraint, that was. Not that he needed supervision or was a man without a moral code. On the contrary: his code was what kept him breathing, day after day. Shame that same set of rules was what got him into trouble most times, because daddy dearest didn't agree with at least half of what was in his head. Seemed like his brothers didn't either.

"And if ya don't like it, what are we here for?"

Out of the corner of his eyes, Tim watched Dick stumble to the couch with a hand to his head. Blood was rushing in his ears, anger and a hint of panic keeping him on edge as Dick sat down clutching the frame in his hands. There were a million things he could respond with, but words fell short at the indifference embodied before him.

"So, is this where it comes to a conclusion?" Damian inquired from his spot in the windowsil where he had observed the erruption of emotion, the escalation of the argument. 

It? This fight? Them? Their relationship? What what he referring to? Dick's head was spinning, his stomach upset and he leaned forward to hang his head between his legs to keep from throwing up his breakfast, and simultaneously throwing his entire _being_ at Jason's feet. Instead he tossed the frame near the man's boots and took several deep breaths. He shook his head.

"How can you say that?" Tim asked their youngest circling the couch to approach him.

Damian regarded him with caution. Tim was never quick to use violence, and the sole fact he had done so just now proved how cornered he truly felt: a last resort after painstakingly slow minutes of bellowing at each other in the quiet company of Dick and Damian. Dick too scared to make things worse, and Damian too sunken in thought for he had predicted this, that very night when he found Jason and covered up a mistake he himself had made countless times in his childhood. He wondered, as Tim's voice had pitched higher with every passing minute and Jason's growing lack of interest in the discussion at hand, if not Jason but **he** had caused this split. His wish to protect Jason from a lack of misunderstanding had backfired immensely. Damian had predicted an outrage, but had miscalculated, underestimated his own influence in the matter. A tight nauseating sensation in the pit of his stomach told him he was going to pay dearly for his inaccuracy.

"We praise ourselves, that despite our differences we have found support in each other," Damian spoke to the three of them, "yet we merely tolerate one another."

"That's not true," Tim objected and his voice wavered audibly. "It takes a lot more than _tolerance_ to forgive someone, _multiple people_ , for wanting to **kill** you."

Oh dear Lord. Dick was going to vomit. He knew it, bile burnt at the back of his throat. This was spiralling out of control and Jason was just nudging their picture with the tip of his boot like he'd do a rat to see if it's dead. Was that what they were? Dead? Broken? A facade?

"You have forgiven, but you will never forget," Damian answered and although he hadn't meant for it to sound accusing, Tim exhaled like he had received a punch to the stomach.

"Because that's not enough for you?" He asked bewildered. "I-- What-- Oh my **God**!" Tim turned on his heels, made way to the door but turned back, pointed at Jason then at Damian. His chest heaved with the difficulty of breathing through his whirlwind of feelings until he reached the eye of the storm and lowered his arm. Deflated, he joined Dick on the couch. "What would you have me do?" He whispered with a distant look. 

His oldest brother raised his head and watched him, and the beaten look he carried. "Timmy," he murmured, pressing his head to Tim's shoulder, feeling a lot smaller than his lover beside him. Tim's cheek rested against him.

Feeling crowded, Jason strolled to the window where Damian sat and opened it. All the cigerattes in the world couldn't lower the stress in his system, not even dent it a little. His eyes attempted to find distraction outside, find the answers he couldn't give. To his left, Damian shifted with his gaze locked on the couple on the couch and the distance between them and their duo. The rift he had felt had manifested. He turned his head and found Jason looking at him, not them.

"We have to accept our differences. Not tolerate them. _Accept_ them," he told Jason who nodded, because to him the difference was painfully obvious.

"Can you?" He asked watching smoke slither from Jason's lips.

"Have to, don't I?" Jason answered softly. How else was he to endure this thing called life? He was not most people and therefore only few could understand and accept him. Like Damian. He exhaled a cloud of smoke outside before reaching for Damian's jaw. He gave it a nudge. "Have ya?"

Damian tilted his head into the man's fist, rubbing it like a cat would. "It's a work in progress," he answered truthfully.

"I thought it was what had brought us together in the first place," Dick called from the couch where he had gathered Tim in an embrace. Having calmed down together, Tim kept silent and thoughtful as he usually was while Dick regarded the two at the window.

"You were mistaken," Damian told him and the blatant truth of it caused visible pain to their oldest.

Dick nodded and turned his head back, setting his attention on Tim. "Right.. What do you think?" 

"I think I have to go," Tim said voice clear as day. Regroup, rethink strategy, analyse battle data. Had this been a mistake all along?

"You can't leave now," Dick told him and the hug became tighter. "We have to fix this."

"Not today," Tim decided. He stood from the couch, Dick sinking down the furniture and onto the ground. The photo frame was back in his hands as Tim collected his coat and bag.

Jason was on his second cigarette, eyes on the world outside.

"How long do you need?" Damian questioned before Tim could leave, his hand on the door handle.

Memories of them at the office, sharing duties and projects, debating on a timeline, shook Tim's passive expression. Damian witnessed the struggle beneath the mask and answered for him.

"As long as it takes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by:  
>   
> 
> 
> This was supposed to be a two-piece thing, but creative explosions happened in my head and suddenly I was combining another prompt from the Bad Things Happen Bingo card and there you have it, three parts to this dramatic storyline, lol. Third part is nearly finished!
> 
> What's next?  
> Want a say in what comes next and add some personal wishes to them?  
> Check out the bingo card in the first chapter and leave a comment in the section below!


	20. Isolation (3/4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 14 of the Bad Things Happen Bingo where DickJayTimDami experience 25 unfortunate events.
> 
> Jason has a ferocity that Damian is all too familiar with and he isn't blind to the consequences of it. Dick and Tim might not understand, but he does. Jason just doesn't know yet. Part 3/4.
> 
> Rated [E] for adult content and language.

They were partners, they were equals, they were lovers. Part of solving the mess they were in was to accept that some of them needed more time to, well, accept. Others were quicker to come together.

"Sometimes I don't know if you are fighting or fucking," Dick said from the doorway of their bedroom, arms crossed and leaning against the wooden frame. 

The naked men on the bed directed their attention to him, having stopped their tossing and turning on the mattress at the sound of his voice. Damian grunted underneath Jason's weight, arms held back with a knee pressing in between his shoulder blades.

"It's a bit of both," Jason admitted giving another tug on Damian's arms.

"Jason! What happened to your face?!" Dick gasped at the sight of a cut lip and a bruise on his jaw accompanied by the cut on his cheek.

"Little shit here happened," Jason answered and Damian looked smug even though his position left him immobilized.

"Repercussion for taking your anger out on Richard. Learn your lesson or I will come after you," the youngest in the room reprimanded and Dick held his head. As if fixing violence with violence was the solution. All this fighting between them left him nauseous.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Dickie. We solved it," Jason interupted his train of thought releasing one arm to ruffle Damian's short hair. He pressed a bit harder than necessary and Damian growled at him for it. Once Jason eased up however, he swiped his thumbs over Damian's cheek in a sign of affection that calmed the rapid beating of Dick's heart. Damian turned his head to caress Jason's hand with his lips.

"Is that so.." He said slowly, eyeing the two of them warrily.

"Yeah.." Jason copied his way of speech, turning his head towards him. He rolled his shoulders back and kept Dick in suspense of what else he wished to share. "I owe ya an apology. Punchin' ya in the face, even if we were sparrin'.. wasn't cool."

Dick chuckled, prodding his lip where his cut had fully healed. "Yeah, you lost your cool and I slipped up, it happens."

"It should never have to happen," Damian called from the bed. "And Jason is making certain it won't happen again."

Dick blinked surprised eyes at his two lovers and the look shared between them. 

"Right." Jason cleared his throat and left the bed, releasing their youngest in favour of approaching their oldest.

Eyeing him up and down, Dick remained passive when Jason got into his personal field and lingered there. The taller man leaned in and Dick tilted his head but their lips never met. "Can I kiss ya?" Jason asked barely audible.

"Why are you asking?" Dick felt silly for the both of them.

"'Cause last time I took advantage of your trust and I realize that trust might be lost so, startin' over, askin' stuff instead of... takin' stuff," Jason answered in a sentence that screamed of Damian's influence. Probably had him practice this line, Dick thought with a hint of a smile.

"Hmhm, I could work with that," Dick responded jokingly to which Jason narrowed his eyes. He reached for Jason's face and the stubble that always lingered on his jaw. The rough edges that he carried in plain sight were only a cover for the fragile man on the inside. Dick was soothed to witness part of it in this moment. Jason had meant to hurt him in that night, and had regretted it the second he had cooled down and had come to his senses. It wasn't difficult to see the awkward guilt Jason had carried the last few weeks although his helmet provided a place to hide it. Dick lifted onto his toes, just slightly to match Jason's height and pressed a careful kiss to his lips.

"We're good, Little Wing. But thank you for asking."

"Good.. That's good," Jason sounded and looked relieved, and nuzzled his cheek with his nose, leaving light kisses on his face. Each felt like an apology by itself. Dick hummed pleased at the affection he received. Jason stepped back, rolled his shoulders back as he did when preparing for a sparring match, and pounced on the reclining man on the bed.  
Damian cussed and narrowly missed elbowing Jason in the eye.

"Where were we, baby bat?" Jason asked with a grin that was contagious. It didn't take long for Damian to end up in the same position Dick had found them in, and he tried not to laugh at him, but it was difficult. Their immature bickering actually soothed his nerves.

"Damn you, Richard. Your laughter will soon be over," Damian threatened struggling in Jason's hold. "As soon as I get this whale off of me."

"And when's that going to be?" Dick asked amused.

The young man licked his lips hesitating to answer. The weight on his back decreased at the prolonged pause. Damian sensed Jason easing up on him and seized the moment to throw his leg back, kicking Jason's torso and unbalancing him. Within the blink of an eye, Damian was on top, setting his naked ass on Jason's chest, immobilizing his arms underneath his legs. He breathed heavily from exertion and desire, his arousal prominent in Jason's face and in Dick's line of sight. Damian turned his head and leaned back, reaching behind him for Jason's cock resting on his belly. His grip made Jason growl, hips thrusting up.

Dick swallowed at the tempting sight before him as Damian answered, smugly: "You were saying?"

"Mind if I watch?" Dick asked instead.

"I thought ya'd rather join, Dickie," Jason groaned as Damian started a slow pumping pace on his cock. "I'll even ask nicely, since that's what I'm doin' now, I guess."  
Shaking his head, Dick remained in the doorway. "Go ahead," he told them, leaning his head back. The bulge in his light blue jeans was evident. The throbbing and the longing that came with it was enough for him.

"Pretty please, big bird? C'mere, lemme taste that juicy ass of yours," Jason's dirty mouth persuaded him, and nearly succeeded for Dick swayed back and forth, restless and aroused. He shook his head once more. "I made a promise, Jay."

Damian flicked his tongue, brows furrowing. "Am I to believe you have not touched yourself ever since that day? _You_?"

Dick laughed cheerfully. "I know right? I'm quite impressed by myself also."

A slipperly wet sensation licked at his cock. Damian's hips jerked and scooted down Jason's chest so the man could sit up. Jason slipped his arms free, cupping Damian's ass cheeks as he held him in his lap. "Useless promise, that is. It won't have him runnin' back to ya and in the mean time we get punished for it." His fingers slipped inward and Dick lost sight of them. The arching of Damian's back was enough to let him know what those fingers were doing, what they were toying with.

With a mighty pull, Damian's upper body careened to the front, his ass lifted and exposed in Jason's lap. The man held an elbow to his spine to keep him down, large hands spreading his cheeks and baring his asshole where a finger was pressuring him to give in. "Don't tell me ya don't want this? Has he let ya fuck him yet? Bet he hasn't huh? Hmmyeah, he's stubborn like that. Won't ask for what he truly wants, right, baby?"

"Shut your mouth." Damian's face was aflame, nails scratching at the man's back but the finger slipped inside and left him breathless.

"We know what to do with boys who are too shy to say what they want, don't we Dickie?" Jason grinned at the sight of a twitch in Dick's jeans. The reminder of Tim finally giving in to his desires, under their shared supervision several years ago was a mighty trigger. Dick might have promised Tim to wait for him until his return, but that didn't mean he couldn't be persuaded to jack off to a good show, and Jason knew just what to say. 

"That's unfair, Jay," Dick breathed out, hand lowering to put pressure on his aching arousal.

"Is it, babe? 'Cause I don't see a problem with ya rubbin' one out," Jason responded, leaning forward to add some spit to Damian's ass crack. "Could use some more lube of some kind here," he added with a smack to an ass cheek.

Damian groaned, but had stopped his attack on Jason's body. He was pushing back against that finger, the burn of it exactly what he wanted. Today had been especially frustrating at work, without Tim there to assist and help prepare for meetings and projects. He and Jason had met up to blow off some steam when Dick had come over unannounced as he had been doing more frequently lately. Feeling lonely, Damian guessed, albeit self inflicted to a certain degree.

"Christ, you and your mouth," Dick complained as he rushed forward and kneeled onto the bed to press a hard kiss to Jason's lips. "I love it," he whispered in between open mouthed kisses while Jason chuckled in victory.

"Don't I know it, babe. Now get that pretty cock out. Yeah, that's it. Been a while, huh?"

Jason's toothy grin made Dick's lips quirk up into a smile. He snaked a hand in Jason's unruly hair and gripped it. Jason allowed it, arched his neck when Dick pulled and twisted, pumping his cock tightly in the direction of Damian's wiggling body. Icy blues peered at him from over a shoulder. Dick caught Damian's gaze and held it as he masturbated to the sounds of Jason fingering Damian's hole and the younger man responding to it.

"Wow. He's hungry today," Jason whistled at the ease of his three fingers slipping deep inside. "Need some cock in there, baby?"

Damian lost eye contact with Dick in order to not lose his sanity. He was unraveling much quicker than usual, Jason was correct. Perhaps it was his need for stress relief, or maybe because it had been over a month since he had any intimacy with Dick at all, and seeing his cock and those pleasure fogged eyes of his oldest lover made his toes curl. He ached for him, to have Dick touch him. Jason and Damian had indulged in a few rounds of sex, after Damian had beat some sense into him for punching Dick in the face, and it had helped to keep the edge off, but Jason wasn't Dick.

The whine that left him was soft and almost wounded. Jason quirked an eyebrow, not too bothered by it and shot Dick a smirk. "What was that? Maybe I was wrong, ya don't need cock, huh?" Jason slipped his fingers back out and the retreat made Damian struggle. He reached back for Jason's wrist, wanting to pull those fingers where he needed them.

"Don't worry, baby," Jason told him and slipped wet fingers around Damian's wrist, them holding onto each other. "I know what ya need. Maybe not cock, but some _Dick_ instead, hmm?"

Damian moaned at the suggestion. There was something slippery and hot and round at his asshole. Could it be? He raised his head once more, grip tightening on Jason's wrist at the sight of Dick having lowered his jeans, rubbing the flaming head of his cock through his crack. The precum that came with the motion only made it more sensual and harder to resist. Dick appeared fascinated by it, by the thought of finally sinking into the tight heat that was his youngest lover. To bottom out in Damian's clenching hole and feel him tremble around him. He had wondered for so long, had kept it all inside his head, his deepest desire left unsaid. 

Dick knew then and there that he couldn't keep his promise, and it hurt him but enough to step away from the bed. Tim would understand, would turn jealous and then frustrated, but when he'd see Damian as he was now, he'd surrender also. Tim would have been the first he'd make love to, after all of this had settled down. He had waited, had made that promise thinking it wouldn't last this long, because he himself couldn't last this long without them. Visions of Tim clutching his back, clawing at it as they made love, just the two of them, haunted Dick's dreams. It had been eleven days since he had woken _without_ a boner. Just the two of them, he had promised. But it wasn't just them, that was the whole point of it, Tim would tell him. Dick convinced himself he'd be forgiven and removed his shirt from his too hot body.

"Dami..This.. You sure?" His voice cracked.

"Please," Damian responded, out of breath. "Richard, _please_."

How could he resist? Who ever could when Damian was so compliant and begging?

Dick fucked him slowly, painfully so. Damian felt more frustrated than when this evening had started, his needs not met until Jason took somewhat pity on him and reached underneath to fist his pulsating cock. He kept unusually quiet as he observed the trembling of Damian's body with every drag of Dick's cock, in and out, and Dick's mouth opening and closing with words of praise. This wasn't his moment, but he was damn pleased to be part of it.

His mouth nipped at Damian's darker skin, licked at the sweat and sucked to mark and claim. Pity the colour rising to the surface wasn't as bright as he prefered. Unlike the hickeys he could leave on Tim's pale chest and thighs. Jason released another patch of Damian's skin and directed his attention elsewhere to force the thought of Tim out. He wasn't there with them and he wouldn't pretend or imagine that he was. Meanwhile Dick had increased his pace, finally, and Damian was so thankful for it that he was pushing back even harder, fucking himself on his cock with abandon.

"Damian, Dami.. _darling_ , oh God," Dick gripped those firm hips tighter and bit his lip. Jason turned his wrist knowingly, jerking Damian off faster and watching his brothers come undone one after another. The hot splash on his fingers followed by Dick's high pitched keen had him rutting his own arousal up against Damian's leg.  
Dick pulled free and guided Damian's body onto the bed with a small chuckle, their youngest out for the counting, chest heaving in post orgasmic state.

"Was it worth it?" Jason asked him slowly fisting his own throbbing cock.

Dick glanced at him, suddenly serious and sullen, but nodded nevertheless, leaning down to press a kiss to Damian's temple. "He will understand. I shouldn't neglect you in the meantime," Dick stated, swatting Jason's hands away and sinking to his knees, mouth covering his meat.

"First sensible thing ya said all month," Jason teased, head rolling back. 

The ammount of his release had Dick narrowing his eyes at the man accusingly. He swallowed every drop, and wasn't an expert, but not an idiot either. There was too much for Jason to claim he hadn't refrained from too much sex without Tim or masturbation. Feigning it again to cover up the hurt, he thought as he licked up the last of semen from Jason's spent cock. 

Their lips met briefly. "Thanks babe. What brought ya here from 'Haven anyway?" Jason asked as they hadn't set out an invitation tonight.

Dick pulled up his jeans, searched for his shirt but left it on the floor to get in bed with Damian, and cuddle. "To talk about Tim," he muttered as he manhandled Damian into embracing him back. Their youngest huffed and opened his eyes at the sound of Tim's name.

"There is nothing to say," he let him know as Jason laid back also. "He will return when he's ready to."

"But what if he doesn't?" Dick asked for the umpteenth time ever since Tim left and broke all contact, went on furlough from Wayne Enterprises and announced his stay at the Titans for the unforseen time.

"He will, Richard."

"But if he doesn't even consider it.."

That caught Damian's attention, head turning against his chest. "Why wouldn't he?"

"Word is he's putting a new team together, Young Justice."

Jason sniffed at one armpit then the other. "So what? I have the Outlaws." 

"You know what he's like: burrying himself in work so he can escape reality!"

"You mean, escape **us**." Damian pushed away from Dick's hold and rolled onto his back, considering the possibility shortly.

Dick fell silent in the middle of their bed, Jason on his left, Damian on his right. Three pairs of eyes contemplated the ceiling. It had first been weeks and now two months since their argument resulted into Tim backing away. Damian was starting to regret his promise, but wasn't ignorant to the fact that these things couldn't be rushed. If Tim needed this ammount of space and time, he would have to accept that.

"Good thing we had this chat after sex, 'cause this is a real boner killer," Jason gruffed stepping out from underneath the covers in the nude and disappearing into the bathroom to freshen up.

"I get it, you know?" Dick mumbled, rubbing at a hickey Jason left on Damian's shoulder. "It wasn't easy for Tim to step into this relationship, but I had thought that his decision, his inclusiveness meant he..." He reached into the air, trying to grasp the word that was missing.

"Timothy's view on the world is more black and white than he would like to admit. Whereas Jason and I live in shades of grey. Such a match takes time."

Dick thought on that for a moment, the wisdom from their youngest a blessing but not the answer he was searching for. Jason walked back in, climbed into bed and pressed ice cold feet onto Dick's legs. The oldest man flinched. 

"I could make a joke, like 'Fifty shades of Jay', but that's no fun without Tim actually around to embarrass. So help me remember that one," Jason responded lying back and closing his eyes. It was still only two in the morning, after all.

"He will return to us," Damian concluded. 

Their confidence chipped away at Dick's insecurities. "You really think so?"

"I do, and so should you." There had been enough times he had doubted Tim, too many times, and he regretted every single one of them.

Dick turned to lay on his stomach, hiding his face in the pillow. His spontaneous yelling was muffled, but startled Jason out of slumber who nudged him none too gently. 

"The heck man!"

"Sorry.. I know. What am I thinking? Tim is better than that."

Jason threw Dick's pillow to the wall. "Stop that shit. Tellin' people they are better than whatever. Constantly tellin' them they fit your expectations or not is what caused this bullshit."

"I caused this?" Dick asked bewildered.

"Not you specifically, but likeminded people." Damian clarified while pinching the bridge of his nose. He had hoped to get some sleep after their tussle in the sheets, his alarm was to wake him in three hours, but this discussion felt everlasting. "Holding standards for yourself is justifiable, holding them for others, not so much."

"Unless they pay you cash or are your _sensei_ or whatever," Jason murmured sleepily.

"This accepting thing is harder than I thought." Dick whined, pouting without his pillow.

"As it should be," Damian responded with the tiniest of nods. 

"I miss him." The murmur of their oldest was faint as he fell into a slumber.

Damian lifted a hand, stroked Dick's head twice as it found Jason's chest as a substitute for a pillow, and let his hand drop like dead weight on his back. "We all do, now sleep."

Sleep was a foreign thing to him. Tim blinked red eyes at the laptop screen in his lap, fingers flying over keys without pause. It was four in the morning, and he had returned after an exhausting long mission to his designated room in the new Young Justice headquarters when a pop up alarmed him of a new message. It was Oracle, telling him to join them for a dinner party in honour of Dick's birthday soon. He couldn't refuse.

"It's been this long already?" he mumbled, coughing as his dry throat caught up with him. It turned into a coughing fit until he downed two glasses of water in the communal kitchen. He had been so concentrated on finding the sink that he hadn't noticed Bart sitting at the kitchen island snacking on left over pizza.

"Dude, you've been out of it, like, a lot, you know?" Bart commented with his mouth full, pieces of chewed up crust and mushroom scattering on the counter top. Tim watched the trajectory without hiding his disgust. Bart burped just to make it worse and Tim couldn't contain a laugh at the man's sense of shame or the lack thereof.

"Seriously though, we're super excited to do this, have the whole team together, meet new people, team growing bigger, the more the merrier and all, and you here instead of gloomy Gotham of course, but everyone's been wondering, you know? What's up with Tim?" Bart continued his monologue. Tim took a seat opposite him, sipping from his glass of water. "So, what's up dude?"

"I needed to remove myself from the equation, observe objectively the situation and my place in it," Tim explained to a curious looking speedster who shrugged like he still had no idea what he was talking about.

"Ooooooooo-kay. Did it work?" Bart asked having no need for details as he figured Tim had it all covered, as he always did when they set out on a mission.

Tim raised his thumb to his mouth and resisted the urge to bite on the nail. He looked at it, sighed and rested his face in his hands instead. 

Bart choked on a piece of pizza at the sudden look of despair before him. "Hey-hey-hey-hey!" He called dropping his food and rushing to Tim's side, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "You got this, fearless leader, no prob! Need help? I can help! Just tell me what to do."

Tim hid his face and exhaled slowly. "No, I'm afraid this isn't something any team can solve."

Bart's smile dropped into a fretful, awkward look. "Uh-oh. Sounds personal. Batman mad at you?"

"If only." Tim groaned. Bart gasped at the possibility there was something more frightening than the actual Batman breathing down your neck and shook his head.

"No way, dude! Batman's the worst so whatever this is, you can definitely handle it."

His fingers spread to allow a peek at Bart's bright expression, all cheer and comfort. "Then tell me, what do you do when.. too much time has passed?" Tim asked with a frown.

Bart tilted his head left and right, then left again. "What do you mean? Like it's too late or something? It's never too late, dude."

"Not to someone like you, I suppose," Tim commented with a turn on the stool to lean his back against the counter and stare at the time and date on the microwave. Seven weeks and three days it had been since he left Gotham, left his lovers and told them he needed time. Thing was, time had only drowned him in too many thoughts, too many what if's, and he was so deep in that he saw no way for him to come back to his initial starting point. He hadn't meant to take this long, but this happened, Young Justice happend and his priorities had shifted. Tim had laid wide awake ever since, wondering if his lovers knew and if they thought lesser of him now that he had put them on second place. Point is, they were both priorities, but the team needed him, and Tim was convinced they needed him more than his lovers would. And so his isolation from his brothers had prolonged into a time frame he couldn't simply ignore or explain other than having lost his confidence to confront them, thinking he might have already lost his place.

Bart shook him out of his thoughts quite vigorously. Tim nearly slid off his stool, grabbing Bart's arms for him to stop. "Talk to me, Tim. You need to do more of the talking. I know I'm not good at listening, but if you don't talk in the first place there's nothing for me to listen to, you know, so start talking."

Opening his mouth, Tim wondered what could be said to explain their situation. His team was somewhat aware of his close relationship with the current and former Robins. That being said, only Kon and Bart knew they harboured romantic feelings. There hadn't been many opportunities to explain how they had gotten together exactly, and Bart had only shrugged giving him thumbs up that night he had shared his relationship with the Speedster.

"Nice! Dating is so overrated, so get what you can get," Bart had said, not truly registering the fact a solid relationship had formed, but Tim had smiled and had left it at that.

"Okay, bear with me," Tim started and sat Bart down once more. Two hours later and Bart was laying with his forehead plastered to the kitchen counter muttering in such a speed that Tim couldn't keep up. "Slow down, would you? I can't understand a thing."

"Good! _Goooooood!_ Because neither can I!" Bart exclaimed, raising his head and smacking the furniture with his hands. "What is going on with you bat people, seriously. Damian and Jason are scary, dude. Dick I get, but them, after all that? **Why**?"

Tim sat back and folded his hands. He recalled that nerve-wrecking moment in the mansion when they had planned to come out to their father and head straight into whatever repercussions there would be. Jason hunting him down had been terrible, so terrifying, but it had ignited his will to survive, even after everything with his dad getting murdered, and losing Stephanie. Jason had been the cherry on top in what had felt like a hurricane of bad things happening in his life. Tim had decided that Jason would not be the death of him, and instead had utilized his perseverance to strengthened his resolve. 

Damian had stolen his place in the family, but had assisted him in forming a name for himself. Damian who had turned Dick on him, or so he thought for many years. Damian who was just a lost child at the time, had made him see he had outgrown the role of Robin. Whether he was ready for it or not. Be it forced and unwillingly, Tim had thrived under the pressure the two of them had provided. He was a survivor and carried scars that had their names, but he also held part of their being in his heart. They had given him so much, both pain and pleasure, and Tim had been happy to share it with them, even if they had been after his life. Because it made him feel like he mattered. He mattered enough for Jason and Damian to be jealous and want him gone, he proved too much of a challenge to leave him be, was too good at being Robin. And in the end he had bested both of them, not by killing them first, but by proving the worth of their cooperation. He had followed Dick's example and had been patient, had noticed Jason occasionally jumping in on his turf to aid in dealing with thugs instead of watching with popcorn for him to get beat into a pulp, and Damian praising him for his intellect as an asset to their missions, asking for his opinion even. 

It ached, badly, when Tim thought of them, without him. Considering to leave forever was a thought that had resulted into several panic attacks over the past few weeks, and yet here he sat, unable to go back. Too awkward, too lost for words, because he didn't understand what they wanted him to say. To accept them, Tim thought, was to forgive them their sins and love them instead. What if to accept and to tolerate had been one and the same in his definition? What if Damian had been correct in saying he would never forget and by never forgetting would always resent them? Except he didn't, resent them, he knew that now, but did they? It was still so close to the surface that Tim had easily reminded them of their wrongdoing when they were arguing, and would lord it over them forever if it would give him leverage.

"You're doing the thinking again, instead of the talking," Bart reminded him cheekily. 

"Sorry," Tim chuckled and shook his head. Tim heaved his shoulders after another long pause. No thinking, just talking. "I believe I am still hurting from past events and still lay blame at the people that I claim to love," he said as a matter of fact.

"So.. you don't love them?" 

Tim frowned, as if being questioned about this was absurd. "I do, genuinely."

"But you're fed up with them, blaming them for stuff? How does that work?

"It doesn't. That's the point," Tim replied filled with a new found determination as he stood from his seat. "I have been waiting for them to change accordingly, blind to the comprimises made while complaining like a child of the hurt I've been through. But what comprimises have I made? This won't do, not at all. I've been running away while it's been my turn to make a move. There's a lot of work to be done."

"Sounds like you have a plan," Bart said grinning at the twinkle he found in Tim's eyes.

The grin was mirrored on Tim's face. "Don't I always?"

It was Dick's birthday. They were gathered, all of them. Dick, Jason, Damian, Duke, Stephanie, Cassandra, Alfred, Bruce and Barbara the one who had taught it nice to arrange a dinner without Alfred having to slave in the kitchen. So, instead, they were. 

Tim had arrived with the company of Stephanie, embraced Alfred after receiving complaints of his disappearance. "I had hoped for you to use the spare time to rest, master Tim," Alfred said with a pointed look at the poorly disguised dark bags underneath his eyes. 

"Maybe tomorrow," Tim told him to which the older man shook his head.

Bruce was next, but kept quiet as they embraced. His larger hands clasped his arms and he took a moment to look at him. Tim sighed dramatically. "I'm fine," he told their father whose watchful eyes shifted to the threesome in the corner of the room, watching them in turn. "Honestly, I'm fine," he repeated taking Bruce's hands and lowering them. The man hummed in thought but allowed him his escape into the kitchen where Barbara and Cassandra were preparing dishes.

"What ya mean, I can't get in?" he heard Jason ask Stephanie who was guarding the door from prying eyes.

"Nope, go away," Stephanie simply said, waving him good bye even as he remained standing. "Shoo!"

"Fine, but I'm not doin' dishes either," Jason eventually said taking a moment to throw a look in Tim's general direction. 

With his back turned to him it was impossible to read his expression. Defeated, he strolled off and sent Damian fifteen minutes later to try and get in.

"You shall let me pass, Brown," Damian demanded like he was the man of the house.

"I shall slap you silly with this spatula if you shall not leave," Stephanie replied in mockery of Damian's speech pattern and slinging said utensil back and forth.

Damian inhaled deeply, held his breath and supressed whatever insult he wished to bestow the blonde with in favor of calling out to Tim. "Timothy, a word?"

Tim looked up from the kettle on the furnace and met those piercing blue eyes that beckoned him. "Later? I'm kinda busy here and we're on a tight schedule, right Babs?"

"Yup," Barbara agreed without looking up from the cutting board.

"Later, then," Damian made him promise with a nod. It took two more minutes before he sauntered off however, reluctant as he went.

Stephanie released a sigh, twirling around to smack Tim's ass with the spatula. "Why are we doing this again?" She asked with one eye on the doorway in case the birthday boy decided to be cheeky and try his luck next.

"Because I've been a complete moron and this is part one of my plan," Tim explained.

Cassandra made him taste test the gravy and he gave her thumbs up. Her smile loosened the nervous knot in his stomach.

"Yeah, you've said that before, but, like, what is part two and how many parts are there?" The blonde inquired sneaking some cut pieces of baguette into her mouth.

"As many as necessary," Tim responded mysteriously. 

Stephanie rolled her eyes. "Boys, so difficult." She muttered to Cassandra who fed her happily.

"Just help me carry all of this out when it's done, alright?"

"Fiiiine. But you owe me lunch."

"Of course I do. Waffles?"

"And bagles."

Tim and Stephanie smiled at each other, the blonde nudging him gently. "Hey, don't be nervous. This will work. You've not been around to hear their moping. They miss you, badly."

The fluttering of his heart was embarrassing if they could have heard it. He nodded, lowering his eyes timidly. He missed them also, and hoped they'd take his words for truth. He hoped they'd still want him back after the distance he put in between them. Tim opened the oven beneath the stove and revelled in the warmth that hit his face. It burnt at his skin, an intensity akin to the desire to get them back, coiling within him. Shoving a platter inside, he shut the oven with a force that alerted the three women in the kitchen. It was now or never.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I lied. It's not gonna be three parts, but four. WHELP! 
> 
> _This thing just keeps growing omfg make it stop..._ I rewrote this part four times, seriously what is wrong with me. But yes, it's finished now and I'd love to hear what you guys think of the development so far! Fourth part will definitely be the last. I hope...................... LMFAO
> 
> What's next?  
> Want a say in what comes next and add some personal wishes to them?  
> Check out the bingo card in the first chapter and leave a comment in the section below!


	21. Biting (4/4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 15 of the Bad Things Happen Bingo where DickJayTimDami experience 25 unfortunate events.
> 
> Jason has a ferocity that Damian is all too familiar with and he isn't blind to the consequences of it. Dick and Tim might not understand, but he does. Jason just doesn't know yet. Part 4/4.
> 
> Rated [E] for adult content and language.

Dinner was served in the library, or so Barbara told them.

"What is going on?" Dick asked smiling from ear to ear, glancing every which way to see what surprises his family had planned.

"Got no clue," Jason replied and Dick believed him, catching Damian's guarded expression.

They opened the door to find the furniture rearranged. To their left was dinner, and Tim.

"Tim," Dick addressed him first, still smiling albeit gentler now. "And.. candles?"

Tim looked sheepish and lifted the lid from the serving platter in the middle of the table. "And home made pizza. As a peace offering," he explained and Dick could kiss him. He did, actually. Rushing past Jason and Damian, he cupped Tim's face and stole his breath. The little sound that escaped Tim made him weak in the knees. 

"I've missed you so much," he whispered to him, thumbs caressing the blush on Tim's face.

"I've missed you as well," Tim murmured self consciously shifting his eyes to the cautious duo by the door. "All three of you," he said much louder, pressing a hand to Dick's chest to open himself up for his two remaining lovers. "I... needed time to think," Tim muttered.

"Evidently, you needed nearly two months." Damian emphasized and his disappointment was palpable.

"Yes, and I won't apologize for it," Tim responded firmly. Damian crossed his arms, but nodded, accepted it. "However, there are other things I want to say I'm sorry for." 

Dick was rubbing his back, a habit he had picked up on when Tim first started being Robin and had returned from a spectacular dangerous night of patrol. He'd been prone to rubbing away the nerves from his smaller body ever since. Tim appreciated the gesture and told himself he was well prepared for this as he turned to Jason.

"I am sorry for kicking you, that day. I shouldn't have, especially because I was mostly angry at you for punching Dick. It was hypocrite and immature," Tim started balling his fists because he didn't know what to do with them otherwise.

Jason regarded him for a moment. "Ya look tired, baby bird," their tallest mentioned as a responds to Tim's apology.

"Yes, well, I... am. Tired," Tim confessed truthfully. The hand on his back lifted to the back of his neck. The concern emitting from Dick's persona was like a warm blanket lulling him closer, but Tim resisted him.

"Damian-" Tim started adressing their youngest lover who released a sigh.

"I have no need for your apology," he said to interupt him. "There is no need for one, is what I mean," Damian added once he noticed the nervous shifting of Tim's eyes. "I can predict what past events you feel like you must repent for, and let me save you the time and energy to do so."

"Then.." Tim stood speechless, his plan and carefully thought of words inadequate. "I don't know what to say."

"Pretty bird, left speechless, call the news," Jason joked, Dick smiling at him for lightening the mood.

"You are not required to say anything, Timothy. I only ask of you to accept that we are different," Damian explained. "There are matters in life that we will disagree on."

"I never meant to-- of course, we hardly agree," Tim objected instantly, defensively. "But I can't agree with you beating a man an inch from of his life. Or punching Dick in the face when you disagree with something."

Jason approached the table and took a seat. He nodded solemnly. "That's true. Which is why I have a problem that needs fixin'."

Tim looked surprised to hear that revelation. Jason snorted at him. "Ya weren't the only one thinkin' things through the last few weeks. I've actually been doin' yoga and been takin' mindfullness classes. Drinkin' coconut water now."

"Right," Tim replied turning his head back to check on Dick and the easy smile he showed.

"He's joking," Dick whispered him, trying to hold his laughter.

Damian flicked his tongue. "Can you remain focussed for once?"

"Nope, pizza's got my attention. I'm starvin'," Jason replied watching the home made crust with different toppings hungrily.

"Let's eat," Dick suggested and they sat down, passing napkins and slices. Dick pecked Tim's cheek with tomate sauce stained lips, Damian reaching over to wipe the stain from his face while Jason wolved down the pizza like it was the best he'd ever had, but pushed the platter back in Tim's direction for him to eat properly also. 

"Sweet baby Jesus, this is heaven," he announced stuffing his mouth some more.

"You made Bruce pizza too?" Dick asked cheekily to which Tim chuckled and shook his head. 

"Just us, it felt.. nostalgic," Tim answered as Damian reached for the vegan slices Tim had reserved for him. The crust had their favorite toppings each, Tim knew for certain after so many years. His eyes shimmered at their little sounds of satisfaction. Relief was a pleasant sensation after weeks of insecurities. Had it been this easy? Had his worrying been for naught?

No. As perceptive as ever, their time seperated had allowed them to selfreflect and reconsider the consquences of their words and actions. Their dynamics had shifted, and they were still nursing wounds. Jason was playing footsie with Dick underneath the table, face a mask of indifference while Dick sat smiling, feeding Tim his pizza instead. Tim felt serene for the first time in forever.

Silence settled and Tim watched the candle nearest to him while chewing thoughtfully. A crumbled ball of napkin hit his head, catching his attention. "Quit daydreamin', baby bird. Tell us 'bout the new team," Jason said in an attempt to get him to talk.

Less of the thinking, more of the talking, Bart's voice reminded him.

Tim stared at him and lowered his slice to his plate. "The team's great. But I have something more important to share," he announced. Damian stapled his hands like he did when in meetings. Dick licked sauce off his fingers curiously and Jason motioned for him to go ahead as he leaned back, belly stuffed.

"I should have been more understanding. Not just that day, but in more than one occasion and it is unfair for me to refer to who you used to be, after all the changes you've made to better yourselves." Tim brushed bangs of hair behind his ear. "I'm not blind to it, nor am I afraid of history repeating itself. I realize however.. I'm not completely done healing."

There would have been a time when Jason would have rolled his eyes and told Tim to grow a pair of balls. That would have been a time before he had fallen head over heels for the small firecracker that Tim could be when pushed to his limits. It was a sight Jason enjoyed to witness and sometimes pressured into revealing itself. If Tim confessed to not having overcome the hurt and possible trauma from those dark, harmful days, Jason couldn't blame him. 

"Just teasin' these days," he explained as Damian directed his pensive stare to the side. "I do stupid shit sometimes, but I don't want to hurt ya." The thought of it alone was enough to make him yearn for a smoke.

"My actions were based on immature emotions manifested in jealousy and spite," their youngest started with a look of regret at his past self. "I saw you as my rival while I should have considered you an equal, a peer. I do now, have been for many years. It's.. understandable if I have not made that more prominent."

"Tim," Dick followed up, cupping his cheek to guide his eyes from the table to his own. "I want you to know that any doubt I ever expressed towards you, was because of my own fear for you to be right, because you **are** right, a lot of times, and.. _so_ smart, _so_ mature. And sometimes I am.. too scared to want to hear to the truth."

The closing and opening of Tim's mouth went without words. This went against his expectations. An apology soothed his damaged heart, but hearing all three of them expression their regret for past mistakes sent his heart pounding against his chest. A sense of relief washed over him, convinced him that he had not lost his place in their relationship. This was not why he had left to reconsider their relationship however. The goal had not been to coax them into apologizing. They had their reasons, had said sorry so many times before. It was time to accept them for what they were: confirmation of their love for him.

"Thank you, but just as I shouldn't have to apologize, you shouldn't either," Tim responded with a quiet voice. "This has been a long time coming. It's time I actively work on it, so.. I want to accept those memories as fundamental parts of you and me, and create new moments together as we are now." His determination straightened his shoulders, making Dick smile. Damian appeared impressed and reached for his sleeve, fingers caressing the fabric until Tim snaked his digits closer and intertwined them.

"Imma cry, gimme a napkin," Jason joked with a hint of a smile. The three brothers collectively bombarded him with oily and sticky samples, Jason cussing at them colourfully.

Tim sat back and basked in the banter that errupted. Jason was raising his voice obnoxiously, Dick challenging his volume in a verbal stand off blaming each other for being the nastiest of their bunch. The arguments given recalling dirty underwear, garbage diving and sewer dwelling should make Tim shudder in disgust, but he was too excited to witness their interactions to genuinely care. Damian complained about their immature antics while flicking left over pieces of crust in their general direction like the overgrown child he still sometimes was. Hypocrites, all of them, including Tim himself. They had a lot to work on, but it was evident every one of them was willing to do so.

Tim sighed and reclined back in his seat, Dick's arm around his shoulders, Damian's hand still in his and Jason's foot now seeking his to fiddle with underneath the table. Tim met his explorative boot and nudged it, catching his eyes as Dick stumbled on another reply. Their energy was still buzzing when the banter died off.

"I knew you'd come back to us," Dick lied and Damian snorted.

"You did not, Richard."

"True, he had lost all hope," Jason added as Dick pulled an offended face.

"You were scared I wasn't coming back?" Tim asked as Dick fell silent.

"Well.. yeah. You don't.. seem to need us as much as we need you, so.. it sounded like a possibility," Dick revealed with a forced smile.

Dumbstruck, was what Tim looked like, for he had thought the exact opposite while bunking with Young Justice. "If I made that impression.. it's only because I thought the same of you," he confessed with a crooked little smile. "I was preparing to be cast out, actually."

"No such thing, baby bird. Once a Robin, you're stuck with us for eternity," Jason declared leaning forward and reaching across the table to grab a hold of Tim's chin. He tilted his head back and rose to his full height, casting shadows over the table as he descended on Tim's anticipating lips.

"Dami.. lock the door," Dick whispered to their youngest as he ran gentle fingers through Tim's hair, brushing aside bangs to have a better look at the kiss that grew deeper, open and slick with eager tongues.

Teeth bit down on Tim's lush bottom lip sending a spike of arousal through Dick's system. He sat back in his seat with heavy lidded eyes, head rolling back at the flood of memories in which Jason and he had ravaged Tim with their teeth.

It had been so long ago, but the whimpering before him and the increasing growling of desire were all too familiar. Once the sound of the lock turning resonated in the library, Dick allowed his eyes to close and relish in what once was his favourite time spent together with Jason and Tim.

"This is wrong, Dick. I can't say it, not like this."  
"Aw come, on Timmy. Please? Just once?"  
"It won't be just once, I know you."  
"True, true. But I'll make it worth your while?"  
"I... know you will.."  
"So... **big**?"  
"Big.. brother.."  
"A bit louder, Timmy."  
"Big brother.."  
"Yes Timmy?"  
"You.. make me feel.. good."  
"How good, baby?"  
"Erm.. Very good?"  
"Where?"  
"Well, here, obviously."  
"Tell me where and how, Timmy."  
"Ugh, please Dick."  
"Please, Timmy?"  
"Would you stop laughing, Jason. I swear to God. I will-"  
"What? Spank me? Now there's an idea, though I'm mostly the one who does the spankin' so if we could discuss who does what, I can be persuaded to join ya on the bed."  
"This is embarrassing."  
"But fun, right Dickie?"  
"Very. I adore you, Timmy. Your cheeks are so red and soft, so warm against my lips. I want to kiss your face all over."  
"Please don't."  
"Well, I can't if you keep hiding behind your hands. Little bit of help, Jay?"  
"And that's my cue. C'mere baby, show us how good **big brother** is makin' ya feel."  
"Jason! Let go of my wrists."  
"This was all about ya usin' your words, baby bird. _Chirp chirp_ , go ahead. We're listenin'."  
"Timmy. You're always so thoughtful, thinking to yourself, and doubting yourself. I want to know what's going on in that amazing brain of yours so I can convince you otherwise."  
"But that's not all you want to do."  
"Correct again. I also want to hear you say how much you like it when we make love, Timmy. Just like this, you **can** feel me, don't you?"  
"Ngh.. Yes, of course."  
"Tell me what you feel?"  
"Hmm.."  
"Ya feel him deep inside you, baby? Slow drag in and out, leaving an itch you can't scratch, huh? Not quite the pace you need, hm?"  
"Hmm, Little Wing? I thought we'd agree Timmy do the talking tonight?"  
"What? I'm just helpin' him along, givin' some examples."  
"That all you're doing, huh?"  
"Heh, I might dig in and get me a taste. Ya got the perfect pale skin, Timmy. Makes me want to **mark** it."

And mark it they did. His neck and chest had been the obvious choices, and once they were littered in hickeys and light dents of their teeth, the older brothers sought out more delicate skin. The thighs were their favourite. It had unravelled Tim so, to be on edge waiting for a sharp sting, whimpering at warm and wet licking to sooth his abused flesh. His hard cock had been forgotten as it laid twitching on his belly until Jason's mouth could refrain itself no longer. The wolfish grin that twisted around his pulsating cock gripping tight combined with that dirty mouth only working him for a minute as Dick pressed deeper into his body, forcing his length across his prostate without mercy. Climaxing had felt like a relief and a freedom from their torture, and oh so good. It had been mesmerizing to behold, but Tim had kept quiet throughout, his lips ruined by biting them through pleasure and pain.

Sky blue eyes opened with a start at the sound of a gasp. Jason was at Tim's throat and it alarmed Dick only for a second before he realized Tim's hand on the man's head wasn't pulling him away but gripping him closer. Jason bared his teeth and licked a slow stripe up to Tim's ear where he whispered too softly for Dick or Damian to hear. Their youngest had crept closer, his presence warm and waiting behind Dick as the scene unfolded before them.

Tim's eyes were shut, blinked open with apparent difficulty and shifted to Dick, then Damian. Jason's whispering continued while Tim's mouth parted with lost words, eyes darker than usual. What exactly was he being told, Dick wondered as he reached back to take Damian's hand and bring his knuckles to his mouth. He kissed them as he held Tim's stare and swallowed harshly at the sudden groan errupting from Tim's throat.

"You did that without me?" The smallest man breathed out accusingly.

"What evil has he been spouting, beloved?" Damian questioned remaining passively standing to the side.

Tim licked his lips and laughed softly before turning serious. "You let Dick _fuck you_ , without me." He pushed at Jason's chest and slid from the table.

Said brother had tensed. "That's not where we should focus on," Damian complained.

Tim's body was pulled back against the table once more, two big thighs surrounding him and pulling his ass back on top of the furniture. Jason sat behind him, brushing hair aside to make way for wicked motivation in his ear. His lips brushed the shell, hot breath causing shivers. "Tell us what ya want, pretty bird."

"I wanted to see it. I **want** to see it," Tim said after thoughtful consideration, and with a determination that made Jason smirk proudly.

"What about you? I thought you wanted some private time with me or the others," Dick recalled, smiling nevertheless at the bold statement. 

"You owe me this first. _Show me_ ," Tim demanded this time, sitting back leisurely in Jason's loose embrace like the man was his thrown.

Who was Dick to decline his precious little brother's request? Especially if it meant he could indulge in Damian's reserved body once more. "Holy cow," Dick exclaimed while crossing his legs and providing pressure to the painful throbbing of his crotch. If that wasn't a killer look, he didn't know what was. "Dami?"

"If we break something, father will reprimand us for months."

"Let him, Imma give him all the details on how it happened, wished he never mentioned it at all," Jason threatened with a cackle that vibrated pleasantly in Tim's chest.

They did agree to spare the furniture. The couch wouldn't have been large enough anyway, and the dark material too easy a victim for bodily fluids. The rug had been another option, but Damian had wrinkled his nose in disgust and had nearly called the whole thing off if not for Dick's pleading and nuzzling against his jaw.

"Ya don't need much. Here, have a chair," Jason suggested in the end, boot hooking on said furniture and dragging it across the wood boards in front of the duo. "Babe, have a seat. Good. Now, sweets, you take a seat, on top."

Tim lifted a hand to laugh against the back of it. Jason orchestrating the scene felt much like a bad porn movie. He loved it.

"That could work," Dick beamed having removed his clothes and sitting butt naked, awaiting Damian's arrival. He patted his lap as if calling upon his pet and Damian's cheeks coloured in the midst of discarding his own attire. The erection, and therefor the clear want to participate, that became visible as he finished eased their minds.

"What do ya wanna see, precious? Front or back?" Jason's breathy voice asked in his warm ear.

"Front, I want to see his face," Tim whispered to him like a secret he wasn't too certain to share just yet.

"Good choice," Jason praised him with a kiss and went for his jeans, pulling down the zipper and working his large hand in to fondle at his clothed arousal. "Just enjoy, let me know if ya want a change of pace or different point of view," he joked as Dick distracted Damian with open mouthed kisses, guiding him onto his lap. Fingers snaked into his mouth, Damian sucking on them without thought. The sight was erotic beyond belief. 

"Jay.." Tim moaned at a particular languid stroke on his cock. He arched his chest, pushing his bottom firmer against the hard bulge behind him. 

"Not just wanna watch, do ya?"

The shake of Tim's head was enough indication to spice things up. By the time Dick had stretched Damian's hole and was lifting him to press inside, Jason had arranged their clothes neatly folded to the side and pulled up another chair. 

"Show him how it's done, precious," Jason grinned swatting at Tim's ass as the smaller man looked at him over his shoulder with the tiniest of smirks.  
Jason dove in to taste him and toyed with his hole. The overwhelming sensation sent Tim leaning forward, hands reaching and grasping Damian's arms to balance himself. The added weight forced their youngest to sink lower on a faster pace. Damian exhaled roughly at the burn, but required no apology as he barely swallowed a moan of pleasure that came with it. Dick's hands were on his hips holding him steady but trembling in excitement.

The younger siblings looked up at each other, both breathless. Tim showed a cheeky smile, Damian's lips frowning but reciprocating the kiss that came after. "Missed you," Tim murmured in between them, words soft and gentle in contrary to the heated situation. The colour on Damian's face spread to his neck and chest. 

"Beloved," he whispered in return, breath catching in his throat at a sudden sharp thrust from Dick's hips. His eyes widened, mouth agape at the rush of pleasure licking up his spine. He lost focus for several seconds and found Tim watching him intently when he regained composure. He was so close their noses nearly touched.

"Dick, do it again," Tim requested gleefully. Jason crowded up behind him, cock out and nudging at his hole. He sighed at the familiar feeling, longed to be filled up again and marvelled in the sight of Damian experiencing the same. 

"With pleasure," their oldest groaned, spreading his legs wider to exert more power into pounding up into Damian's body. 

They were fucked firmly, like it was a serious matter. The corners of his mouth quirked into a smile as he panted against Damian's lips, swallowing the man's own sounds of pleasure as they allowed their older brothers reign over their bodies. They were jacking each other off in the meantime, trying to see who would finish first. Tim wouldn't mind losing that competition. His other hand clawed at Damian's shoulder, reaching up for his short hair and tugging his mouth to his neck. Puffs of warm breath caressed his skin, the tip of a tongue flicking at the sweat gathered on the surface. 

"Do it," Tim asked of him, pushing him closer. Damian's look caught Jason's darkened eyes over his shoulder and witnessed him snapping his jaws at air, grinning like a fool. "Please? I.. I need.." Tim's voice began and faltered, whine escaping him as Jason picked up the pace. 

Dick laughed and met his brother's rhythm. Damian opened his mouth, pulling his lips back to reveal his teeth. He panted harshly, toes curling at the warmth coiling in the pit of his stomach. Sweat trickled down the side of his face. He was close to climaxing, the sensation all too familiar to him by now. Dick jerked underneath him, cussing lightly and obviously not far behind. The sharp edges of his teeth grazed Tim's flustered skin, not enough to bite, but present and threatening. Tim tensed and wrapped his arms around Damian's shoulders to pull him closer as he has the habit of doing when coming undone. 

He bit down, harder than intended. The gasp that erupted from Tim's mouth was accompanied by Damian's growl as he lost control and stiffened during his climax. His teeth latched on and refused to let go of the trembling body against his, warm slick spreading on his thigh as Tim came without another word.

Tim gasped for air, Jason's force unrelenting and making him see stars. Or was it Damian's teeth in his skin? Or was it Dick's sweet high pitched sounds of pleasure marking his own finish? Damian's mouth went slack in the aftermath of his final high, retreating from the abused flesh and leaving traces of saliva that cooled the throbbing skin. Dick's arms crossed over the front of his chest, gripping tightly as they heaved in an attempt to catch their breaths. Tim's forehead found a place to rest against Damian's shoulder with the last of Jason's thrusts, the man slowling as he emptied himself inside.

"That was wild," Tim winced with a light touch to his neck where Damian's teeth had almost drawn blood. Their youngest lowered his head with conflicted feelings.

"My apologies.. I.. lost control," Damian confessed cheeks ablaze when Dick cooed at him for it.

"Always nice to hear I did such a good job," Dick sat grinning and snuggling Damian's exhausted form. 

Tim smiled despite the sting, cupping Damian's face to bring their foreheads together. He waited, letting them rest for a moment. "It's okay to lose control sometimes," he said with a groan as Jason retreated from his body. 

"So what's for dessert?" Jason quipped seating his naked ass on the other chair and stretching his arms. 

"You insatiable glutton," Dick complained as Damian lifted from his lap and went in search for napkins to clean them with. "And I'm not even sure if you're refering to food or sex." He laughed at the mysterious eyebrow lift Jason provided as a reply. 

"I can check for ice cream," Tim opted, having redressed and gathering the silverware on the table.

"Aw heck, you fought?" Stephanie asked deflating on the spot as she spotted Tim coming back carrying only half eaten pizza and spotting the bruise on Tim's neck. "What happened?"

Cassandra and Barbara, doing dishes together, stopped and turned to hear him out. He coloured from head to toe and Barbara snorted, returning to scrubbing the dishes when Damian walked in after him, trying not to look any of them in the eye. 

"Fighting? Is that what they call it these days," she murmured cheekily. Cassandra smiled gently and took the dishes from Tim's and Damian's hands, regarding them both with a satisfied nod.

"Agh! In the Manor?! While we were here worrying for you?!" Stephanie bellowed suddenly catching on and approaching Tim with the spatula she threatened to smack Damian with that afternoon. The poorly hidden smile on Tim's lips only encouraged her to use it, swatting the utensil as he dodged left and right. "The nerve! You perv! I always rhyme when I'm seriously angry, you know! Come here!" She gave chase and Tim laughed retreating to the hallways, leaving a sighing Damian behind.

"Ouch, what did I do?!" Came the betrayed cry of Dick in the distance.

"No mercy!" Came Stephanie's warcry.

"Bring it, blondie!" Jason's acceptance of the challenge should have concerned the trio in the kitchen. It should have, were they a normal family.

The eruption of sounds that followed lured a concerned Duke to the kitchen doorway. "I feel like I should ask, but I don't want to be guilty by association."

"Wise choice," Damian replied taking the chore of placing the dry dishes back in the cupboards. "There might be hope for you yet," he smirked as Duke gave a long suffering sigh, Stephanie's loud screaming growing near again. "If you start running now."

Disappearing from sight, it only took four seconds for Stephanie to pass by in the same direction. "You can't hide from me!" She cackled evilly. Duke knew she was telling the truth.

His brothers gathered in the doorway instead each with the imprint of the spatula on a cheek. Dick was rubbing at it gently, Tim holding his own glowing cheek while comforting their oldest with Jason seemingly oblivious to his own. Damian closed a cupboard door and snorted at them openly. "Idiots," he called them fondly.

"Don't think I forgot about you, demon brat," an eerily sweet voice called from behind the wall of men. Jason grinned, stepping aside and revealing Stephanie smacking the spatula in the palm of her hand. Tim decided in that moment, as Damian tried to persuade her to lay down her weapon in return for freshly baked waffles with syrup, that his choice to return to this crazy mess, had been the right one. They were all a little different, but acceptant of their imperfections.

"It looks good on you," Tim quipped as Stephanie left the kitchen satisfied, Cassandra and Barbara in tow.

Damian narrowed his eyes, ignoring the print forming on his right cheek. "She'll pay for this."

"Hey! Now we match!" Dick announced tugging at Jason's arm. "See? Right cheeks only."

"Whoop-tee-fuckin'-doo," Jason cheered sarcastically.

Tim embraced Dick and his positivity which manifested in a group hug. How could he ever do without them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by:  
> 
> 
> This litttle arc is over! I sprinkled some fluff in at the end to lighten the mood some more, because I put them through enough hardship, gosh! Tell me what you think!
> 
> What's next?  
> Want a say in what comes next and add some personal wishes to them?  
> Check out the bingo card in the first chapter and leave a comment in the section below!


	22. Scream all you want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 16 of the Bad Things Happen Bingo where DickJayTimDami experience 25 unfortunate events.
> 
> It's Easter but instead of hunting for eggs, they are in search of Tim who has gone missing.
> 
> Rated [T] for language, ft. implied Ra'sTim

It's Easter and they should be searching for eggs, like is tradition at the Wayne Manor this time of year. Instead, they are searching for their brother, Tim, who has dropped off the planet it seems, after not reporting back in after patrol last night.

A woven basket filled with colourfully handpainted easter eggs sits atop the kitchen counter, forgotten. The decorative shells bear their initials, as requested by the lot of them after several years of hunting. It was too easy, they claimed, otherwhise. Now, they are either supposed to only collect eggs bearing their respective initials and colours or are assigned different ones to spice things up. There are even dupes mixed in to keep them on their toes.

Alfred removes his pristine white gloves and reaches for a red and yellow striped egg. His thumb sweeps over the carefully written 'TD'. His concern lies not with the third young adult, but the man who took him.

"This is an insult," Damian complaints as he and his two brothers penetrate the fourth underground lair this morning in search of Tim. "Grandfather will pay for this."

"Get in line," Jason growls knocking the butt of his gun to the temple of a ninja this his left, successfully clearing a path to the two grand golden doors ahead.

Dick's smile is steady on his face as he flips, sommersaults and floors two pursuing ninja. His eyes don't hold the joy that usually comes with said expression however. "We'll find Timmy, we always do," he promises his younger lovers before the familiar sound of a voice calling out for help reaches their ears.

"Stop! No!" His voice is unmistakenly misserable.

They say time slows down in the heat of the moment. It might be the pit talking, but Jason is pretty certain it's the other way around. Their gazes meet and within a second their shared objective changes from silent breaking and entering to trashing the place, and there's not a moment's time to lose. With a rush of adrenaline, Damian takes the lead as Dick and Jason follow in a straight line. His sword is raised and glints dangerously in the warm light of the wall candles, striking down a ninja emerging from the shadows. Dick steps in as the leader of their party, escrima sticks twirling and itching to smack whoever personally grabbed his lover from whatever rooftop. His wish his granted when three more dark clad assassins form a blockade. The shiruken flown his way are nearly invisible, but Dick knows not to merely depend on sight. He hears, rather than sees their trajectory and swings his sticks just so to ricochet them to the original owners. Jason manages to high-five him while he passes him, now the front man with Damian hot on his tail, Dick poking some chests before sprinting after them.

"No, please, no more!" Tim's voice slips between cracks and slits of walls and the doors ahead.

"You may scream all you want, Detective. I assure you, there is plenty more." Ra's velvety voice sends a shiver down their spines.

Jason channels a boost of energy to his legs to add momentum as he prepares his shoulder for impact. The doors slam open when connected with his bulking form. He heaves a breath and raises his guns, scanning the room for unfriendlies. Up ahead he finds his target and his lover, one seated and the other lying limply on his back supported by a pile of luxurious pillows. Tim's head is tilted back, his mouth agape and stained with a substances that at least don't resemble blood. 

Damian and Dick flank him, observing the situation.

"Alright, motherfucker, hand him over," Jason demands with another step forward. 

It's Dick who grabs his forearm and motions for him to wait, Damian flicking his tongue and holstering his sword. "Stop this at once. This is ridiculous, grandfather," he tells the man surrounded by wrappings of chocolate treats.

"Ya the Easter bunny now, huh?" Jason asks with a sarcastic snort, reloading his guns while he's at it. "Hate to break it to ya, Ra's, but ya not fluffy enough." The barrels of his guns align with the man's amused expression.

"Clearly you have not laid eyes on my bare chest, unlike the Detective," the man objects, long fingers peeling back the shell of another chocolate egg and lowering it to Tim's lips. He resists with a short whimper sending Dick's heart beating up high in his throat. "I simply wish to share every distinguished flavour with dear Timothy."

The younger man makes an effort of turning his head to the side. "Make him stop," Tim begs arms curling around his aching stomach.

"You monster," Dick accuses with a firm press to the button on his escrima sticks, their static electricity crackling in the otherwise silent chamber. Jason sees this as the green light he needs to advance on the man, rubber bullets piercing the sky but none hitting home. He bares his teeth in annoyance as Ra's vanishes from sight while he and his brothers reach Tim. 

Damian lowers to one knee, wiping bangs from Tim's sweaty forhead and wiping brown remains from the man's lips with his sleeve. He then bents down at the waist to caress him with his lips. "Are you wounded, beloved?"

"He's been.. feeding me for hours.." Tim manages to mumble through his drug induced state of mind. His voice is hoarse from over exertion. They have been looking for him for five hours and can only hope the feeding didn't start immediately.

Dick gathers him in his arms, against his chest, hand caressing him soothingly. "We're here now, Timmy. We won't allow him to continue any longer," big brother tells him.

"Such a shame, there are a variety of tastes left to explore. Alas, we shall reschedule," Ra's comments after re-emerging at the doors Jason and his lovers barged into moments earlier. 

The man's eyes darken at the possibilities another Easter celebration may bring. "I can hardly wait what other enticing little sounds their flavours incite in you," the man reveals and steps aside to narrowly miss Jason's rubber bullet, the shot echoing in the room.

"How 'bout I feed ya bullets instead?" Jason suggests and fires several more to make his point. He chases the man out of the room, but doesn't pursuit him beyond the doors and into the darkness. With a grunt he turns to his lovers and his facial features soften. "How's pretty bird?"

"Nauseous," Tim answers him wrapping his arms around Dick's neck as he is lifted from the pillows. "Might need a bucket," he warns them turning exceptionally pale as a result.

Jason is quick to fling his helmet to Damian who is anticipating his throw with stretched arms, catching and turning swiftly to catch the brown contents of Tim's stomach.

"That's it, darling, get it all out," Dick tells him, increasing his hold when Tim starts shaking against him. 

"Too tired, let's just leave," Tim complaints after a while, Damian wiping his mouth once more and considering the red helmet as Jason joins them.

"Keep it," Jason tells him with a shudder. He reaches for Tim's face resting against Dick's chest, rubs his knuckles against Tim's jaw gently. "Let's get ya home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by:  
> 
> 
> Happy Easter! Wrote this in between family gatherings today. Hope you enjoy the short piece of silliness I created.
> 
> What's next?  
> Want a say in what comes next and add some personal wishes to them?  
> Check out the bingo card in the first chapter and leave a comment in the section below!


	23. Chained to a wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 17 of the Bad Things Happen Bingo where DickJayTimDami experience 25 unfortunate events.
> 
> There was once a time when Dick thought every villain held the potential of doing good, being good. Slade is an exception. Jason is an exception.
> 
> Rated [E] for language and nsfw content, DickJay pre DickJayTimDami ft. Sladin

Jason is leaning out of the window to enjoy a well deserved smoke. Not that he's allowed to judge his own performance, Dick tells him teasingly as he rolls of the bed and stretches his worn out limbs. Tonight was a good night, a languig round of sex that made his toes curl. And Jason has listened to his complaints when he got a little too rough, adjusted himself before Dick was even able to voice his discomfort. Colour him surprised, to have such an unexpected considerate little brother. Dick sighs with a satisfied little smile.

He sneaks up on his newly aquired lover and watches as Jason turns to him with his arm outstretched to hold the cigarette outside. No smoking in Dick's appartment, after all. Jason can be a good boy if he wants to. Dick crowds him in the window, nuzzles his jaw as he reaches for the smoke between his fingers. He is indulged and brings it to his own lips, taking a practiced drag.

Jason shows a look of astonishment before reaching for his pack on the windowsill, lighting a new one for himself. "Daddy dearest will think I corrupted you," he comments as they continue to smoke together.

Dick shows a sly little smirk, a rare sight that he doesn't hold long. His face slips into something guarded. Jason taps ash from his cigarette as he studies the man beside him.

"I was corrupted way before," Dick finally mutters, raising his smoke to his lips and taking another deep drag. He holds the smoke, revels in the burn in his lungs, the rasp it leaves in his throat. He exhales slowly, watching the thick fumes slither up into the night sky.

"Does he know?"

"Probably. Doesn't mention it though."

"'Course not, that would mean dealin' with a problem like a normal human bein'. The _horror_."

"Don't be mean," Dick reprimands but chuckles nevertheless.

"It's what I am," Jason retorts and flicks the butt of his cig outside to add to the litter of the city. Dick wonders how was able to finish before him, remembers Jason's basically a chainsmoker nowadays, and gives him a pointed look. He stubs his own smoke on the bricks outside and turns to throw it in the trashcan. 

"Not gonna deny it?" the younger man asks curious turning around.

By now Dick is putting his jeans back on, underwear forgotten somewhere on the other side of the bed. "You are not just a bad guy, Jay," Dick tells him as he reaches for his shirt, pulls it over his head and continues his quest for his socks.

"Oh yes, do tell me how the pitch black void where my heart's supposed to be, is just a hole waitin' to be filled with puppies and sunshine." His voice drips with sarcasm making Dick toll his eyes. His long legs carry Jason to the bed where he lounges without a care in the world.

"Pretend all you want. I see right through you," Dick tells him and smiles as he does when finding him endearing. Jason notices this and redirects his gaze with a snort.

"That's why ya got a thing for bad boys? Ya see right through 'em, think you can fix 'em?" 

The bite to the words triggers bittersweet nostalgia. Dick sits on the bed to tie the laces of his sneakers and the silence that follows leaves an ache in his chest. He feels and hears Jason's starting to get uneasy behind him.

"No.." he finally responds, turning his head to meet Jason's squinted look with a somewhat regretful expression. "There was once a time when I thought I could."

Jason crosses his arms behind his head, holds his gaze. "What changed?" And Dick faces forward at the analyzing eyes of his current lover, unable to subdue the flash of sadness that morphes his face into a grimace.

"I stopped trying."

 

It only makes sense to him to track down his biggest nemesis, convinced he can once and for all settle what he and Batman couldn't, back when he was still Robin and Batman needed to protect him from getting stabbed in the gut by Deathstroke's impressive precision and lethal kills. As Nightwing, he may just be able to finally convince Deathstroke to act in the name of justice. 

He feels cocky, dressed in his new costume that fits him perfectly in all the right places. He feels empowered, in control and ready to make a change, a real one. His ego grows as infiltrating Deathstroke's lair proves an easy feat. Cameras have blind spots he utilizes to pentrate deeper to the man's private chambers, hoping to catch him off guard. His luck ran out the moment he entered that bedroom however.

"Bird's finally ready to leave the nest, huh?" A velvety voice observes from somewhere within the barely lit room. Too close, too sudden. Nightwing spins around gracefully, birdarang at the ready to launch once he actually finds the man.

"Deathstroke," he calls out, almost smiling.

"Kid," the man returns the greeting, stepping out of the shadows to his left while he had been aiming at his right. 

Dick clenches his jaws, pretends it doesn't bother him, but it does. It hasn't been long since leaving Bruce's side as his trustworthy sidekick, the bright Boy Wonder, and messing up this early on in his solo career has him on edge. He rolls his shoulders back, languidly turns to face him and offers a grin.

"You like the new look?" His attire might have changed, but his playful attitude didn't.

"It's an improvement, at least," Deathstroke comments with a shrug but slaunters closer with obvious interest in the now young adolescent. "Batman know you're prancing around like that?"

"Yes," Nightwing replies and broadens his stance, "although I don't need his permission to do so." Very convincing, he thinks to himself as Deathstroke offers a little chuckle.

"You ready for the real world now, are you? Good, it's about time for you to make use of your true potential." The man stops three feet away from him, and Nightwing realizes he has allowed him to do so without preparing for a surprise attack.

"I was thinking the same," Nightwing agrees but reaches back for his escrima stick, just in case.

"No, I don't think you do," Deathstroke mutters and he is upon him within seconds, hands gripping his wrists before he can reach for his weapons and strike to create distance.

"Your talents were wasted by Batman's side, are wasted on childish heroic endeavors," the pitch in his voice lowers, chest armor pressing against his own. Nightwing knows he is holding his breath, forces himself to breathe and remember his meditation, but Deathstroke removes his own mask and reveals the man beneath, leaving him breathless and enamored. His hands are raised above his head, the man towering over him.

"Imagine what I could teach you when you agree to be my partner," Slade Wilson encites him with a murmur soft and intimate, his body reacting to it instantly. Many things, he has no doubt of that. A duo of clicks catch his attention. Slade lowers his arms, but his are immobolized and Dick blinks in evident confusion at the cuffs on his wrists, the chains hanging from the wall.

"Why do you even have these in your bedroom?" He questions flabbergasted despite his compromised position.

One eye twinkles, lips stretching into a grin. "Well, you're old enough now, so I might as well tell you," Slade answers and has yet to relieve the pressure from his chest against Dick's, looking quite comfortable within his personal bubble. The man leans in and his beard is the first thing he feels against his cheek, hot breath on his ear second. "I will let you in on a secret of mine, kid."

"Not a kid anymore," Nightwing tells him, but is fully ignored.

"This is where I transform boys into _men_."

The heat rushing through his body is difficult to ignore. He must be radiating against Slade's face, because he's chuckling before he pulls back to observe the embarrassment inflicted upon his prisoner.

"I'm not a boy, so how about you let me go, and do some good for once?" Nightwing suggests with a tug on the chains. They rattle and hold him in place. He knows escaping them will take time and a good amount of pain. He can handle a bit of pain, depending on who it inflicts, of course. Dick allows a breathy chuckle at his own thoughts.

Slade watches him amused. "Doing good isn't in my job description," he replies smugly, his eye lowering to the front of Nightwing's costume. His lips smirk, hand reaching to the cup protecting his crotch. "Not a boy, huh? We'll see about that."

"Holy moly!" Nightwing manages to gasp out as the pressure of the hand to his front increases. He exhales a nervous laugh, swallows against arousal starting in the pit of his stomach. "I know you're better than this. You can make a difference, Slade." This is not exactly what he has in mind tonight. His mission of possibly converting the top notch assassin shouldn't come with a side dish of frottage, but then why are his hips betraying him?

"I'm not doing anything, kid. This is all you."

And it's true, Nightwing notices that Slade rests a hand on the wall beside his head, leaning against it as his other hand remains motionless on his crotch. His hips stutter forward once more, seeking friction while his urges build inside him. How many nights has he imagined the feel of that scruffy face against his in a heated kiss? How much has he come undone by his own hand fantasizing this man demanding his pleasure and his release?

"You sure you don't want me to do anything bad?" The man inquires with the slightest change of pressure to his crotch where he has become fully hard. Does bad translate to _naughty_? Because if it does, Dick isn't sure how to answer without sounding wanton.

He nods.

Slade lifts an eyebrow.

"What? Is that a yes or a no?"

His lips form a thin line and his eyes shut tightly as his mask is pried away from his face. He is unconcerned, having been revealed to the man when still wearing the scaly panties and the pixie boots. Bruce doesn't know. Dick hopes he doesn't know. Dick fights against the chains and arches his chest. Slade is swift in removing has hand from the wall, utilizing it to push him back and flat against it instead. 

"Time to be honest, kid, and if you tell me the truth, you'll get a little reward," Slade promises coyly. The stern expression on his face however shows whatever question is coming will take earnest consideration. 

"Did you come here believing there's a chance of me becoming a good person, like you and your merry band of good-doers? Are you a noble kid like that? Or did you come here to try your luck with an older man, like the horny teenager you still are?" 

Those are a lot of questions to answer. His head hits the wall behind him, knocking some sense into his preoccupied brain. The answers should be simple, yet when he opens his mouth, words are lost on his tongue, stuck in his throat. Dick inhales and swallows before attempting to answer again. It is mighty difficult to resist him, the sultry look he's giving, the dominant aura oozing from his muscled form. Once he feared their difference in strength. For years he has been fantasizing about it instead. Of course no one knows, not even Bruce. Hopefully not Bruce. Who knows what he knows. 

A little voice in the back of his mind berates him though, calls him a fraud and a fool for having convinced himself he came here to make an actual difference. His mind isn't set on converting him, at least not as much as it is on finally being touched by this formidable man. He didn't come here with any intention other than to satisfy an itch he wanted to scratch for years, and can't truly be bothered whether it'll be scratched by an honest or dishonest Slade Wilson, can he?

The hand lifts from his crotch and grasps his chin.

"Think hard on this one, Boy Wonder," Slade warns and the enticement he has felt for this man for several years now leaves in its wake a familiar sense of fear: his initial feeling when meeting the lethal man.

His eyes shift to the left and then to the right, landing on dark patches among the wall where another pair of cuffs hang waiting to be used. It doesn't take Batman, or a mere PD detective to determine the identity of the substance that taints the structure, and the air with an almost unnoticable waft of iron.

When his gaze slips back to Slade, the older man openly revels in the fact Dick is putting one and one together. Whatever he does here in his sparetime, it surely does not involve the pleasure Dick is seeking. He also knows coming here might have been a grave mistake as that one eye darkens into something much more dangerous.

"No," Dick exhales when the hand on his chin lowers to his neck and latches on, palm pressing to his adam's apple and windpipe. Whether it is the answer to one of the man's questions or a mere verbal reaction to his assault remains a mystery, for Dick is unable to form any other words with the tight hold of Slade's hand. 

"Your time's wasted on me, kid," the man reveals with a sigh of exhaustion. "But the attempt is appreciated," he follows up and uncuffs him, stepping back entirely to wander to his bed at the opposite wall of the room. "You found your way in, surely you can figure your way out," Slade comments as he starts removing his attire, back facing the conflicted young man that is Dick. 

His eyes stare hungrily when Slade's bare back is presented, muscles moving underneath scar littered skin. Once that one cunning eyes catches his gaze however, it is his natural instinct to flee this menacing man. All thoughts of what good a man he could be forgotten. Thoughts of how good he can make Dick feel, suppressed in the back of his mind, accessed on rare occassions at night, but resisted as time passes. 

 

An arm encirles his shoulders and his chest from behind. Jason's bare torso is hot against his clad back, the rapid beating of his heart pounding against Jason's hand resting atop it.

"Hey, what's up?" He is asked gently, his lover concerned instead of agitated as he was prior.

"Just memories," Dick tells him and leans back into his touch. His eyes close instinctively at the feel of a bigger frame and calloused hands steadying him. He feels safe there, feels watched over. "Bad ones."

Jason's lips find his temple and linger there in a kiss that calms him. It's the little things that matter, he tells himself as Jason breaks the silence once more. 

"I don't think ya stopped," he mumbles to his lush hair.

Dick frowns, tries to turn and look at Jason, but is prevented from doing so as the grip on his body tightens. Jason lowers his head and rests his face in the crook of Dick's neck, possibly finding shelter for his embarrassment.

"I think.. ya did change _me_ , for the better. So.. ya never stopped tryin', not with me at least."

Dick's hand finds the short hairs of Jason's nape and runs through them lightly. He feels the flush of Jason's blush all the way up there. A smile tugs at his lips, thankful for his brother in more ways than one.

"Yeah," he agrees softly, wistful, "by some miracle, I didn't."

His lover knocks his head against his jaw, leaving a dull ache. "Shut up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sladin makes a comeback! This time I dared travel a bit closer to the NSFW side of the pair that is immensely popular on AO3 and Tumblr. Still, writing this within my Exquite series means I have trouble writing them share anything more intimate, and it was an opportunity to steer the popular Sladin bandwagon to a different track. Because, let's not forget, Slade Wilson is a dangerous man, not without lust as is evident in his comics, but also not an idiot. Imagine the trouble he will get himself into, having Batman on his tail when he finds out he actually went all the way with one of his wards? Nuhuh, Nightwing's ass might be delish, but he has far better use of his time and wouldn't want to waste resources fending off Batman at every turn whenever he's in Gotham. That's my opinion however. It is thrilling to write and read about them showing obvious interest and not acting on it, letting that fire smolder between them. 
> 
> Moving on! Great news, everyone! We finally have a filled bingo row on the card! Gosh, it looked like prompts were deliberately chosen to keep me from getting that far, haha! What makes this achievement even better is that this prompt is a gift for regular reader Susie, who celebrated her birthday earlier this week.  
>   
> Again, congratulations, dear! And many thanks for your continuous support, comments and inspiration. It is very much appreciated :)
> 
> What's next?  
> Want a say in what comes next and add some personal wishes to them?  
> Check out the bingo card in the first chapter and leave a comment in the section below!


	24. Knife to the throat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 18 of the Bad Things Happen Bingo where DickJayTimDami experience 25 unfortunate events.
> 
> This is a glimpse into the four part story ranging from Bloodstained clothes to Biting (chapters 18-20), where Damian and Jason come together and share frustrations over accepting themselves before their lovers can.
> 
> Rated [T] for language and violence, JayDami within DickJayTimDami

The kid was a walking time bomb. It was beyond obvious by the repetitive and ridiculous amount of dedication Damian channeled into checking their armory. Jason was in there often, although not for the logical reason of retrieving more rubber bullets, which he talked Bruce into buying for him since he was the one insisting Gotham scum deserved to live, so why should Jason be paying expenses when his method was cheaper and more effective? Also, who was the billionaire here? Yeah, it had been a marvelous discussion, that one.

Damian had been accessing the armory more often on a regular basis ever since that fiasco of a fight at their appartment with Tim walking out on them. Jason understood, the kid needed something to do to get his mind off of something he couldn't possibly change by his lonesome. Transform his frustration into something useful and less harmful. And of course, because Damian is a an Al Ghul and a Wayne combined, instead of spending time with friends and trying to get advice on how to handle such a delicate situation, he stayed holed up surrounded by explosives, blades and gadgets.

Sharpening knives should be the last priority on his list. Damian found it calmed him, practising his control as he scraped the blade to the lubricated surface of the whetstone before him. The perfect angle was familiar to him, but he differed from it to prolong the process and inspected his progress with every few motions. He wondered idly, watching the reflection of Jason standing in the doorway to the armory, if a person could be chipped away from his imperfections in a likewise manner. A silly thought.

"Lookin' pensive," Jason started with pocketed hands, body language relaxed yet watchful.

Damian lowered the knife to resume its sharpening. "I've been told it is my _resting bitch face_."

Jason's face cracked open into a grin, laughing at the words Tim once uttered when they were all that much younger and Damian was still out to kill his predecessor. Man, those were the days. Jason shook his head and leaned it against the doorpost to settle a thoughtful look at the concrete ceiling. They used to bicker and argue all the time, not understanding or caring of their private struggles in the slightest. Now look at them, divided and broken by the same old while claiming to care.

"A chiseled face like yours? Nah," his brother commented, but Damian gave no sign of recognition to the compliment. "Think ya can do mine?" Jason reached for the hilt clasped to his left calf and retrieves his personal blade.

Damian regarded it shortly, raised his shoulders in a shrug and that's all the confirmation Jason got so he wandered closer when the younger man started polishing the newly sharpened knife.

"Ya can teach me if that's more worth ya time. Make it all hot and heavy like them ghosts in that pottery scene. What was that movie called?"

"Ghost," Damian answered with a sigh, setting the blade aside, "and there was only one ghost. Hence the title 'Ghost', _moron_." 

This time Jason shrugged and sauntered closer. "How do ya know when it's ready?"

"I throw it at someone. See if it makes them bleed," Damian answered raising the blade to let the light catch its smooth surface. His eyes drifted to the older man steady and defiant.

With a huff, Jason pointed his own knife at him with squinted eyes and a crooked smile. "I.. am not sure if that's a joke or not."

"It's not. You are the perfect candidate. Hold still." Damian responded instantly and turned swiftly, arm raised backward to create momentum. The hint of a smirk appeared on his lips when Jason complied and rolled his shoulders back just as the hilt left Damian's grip. He watched it pass Jason's face, nicking his cheek before it penetrated the cork wall where equipment hang.

"Little shit," Jason breathed but not without grinning and looking rather impressed. He could have dodged, could have deflected it with his own weapon, but that would have negated his intention, which was to meet the challenge in Damian's eyes head on. Grab the bull by the horns, sort to speak. "What was that for, huh?"

"To teach you a lesson," Damian retorted and turned back to the table to retrieve another blade to sharpen. "Not to mess with Richard when you're agitated, like a wild dog." He prided himself in not flinching at the sudden sight of Jason's personal knife protruding from the wall after his brother threw it, barely missing his head.

The kid had meant to cut him, so it seemed. This fact combined with the insult stung more than the cut to his face. He understood what reasons Damian had to reprimand him, because Jason had thrown that knife without actually considering the consequences. Not like a wild animal, but overcome by anger, as he had been with Dick. Seemed like he had less control than favoured. 

"What lesson? Ya might want to try again. People say I'm thick in the head," Jason drawled when Damian made a show of slowly turning his head and casting his brother a raised eyebrow.

"Nonsense. You are a tad slow at best," Damian clarified with a mixture of a compliment and an insult that left Jason itching for a rumble on the mats.

The pent up frustration he had been experiencing was getting the better of him. No matter how many criminals he punched in the face and kicked in the balls the past few days, this tension between them was like throwing gasoline on a small fire. He could tell Damian was of similar mindset the way the younger man indulged in his goating, looking for an excuse to be his snarky 10-year old version. 

Jason reached for the shallow cut on his cheek, prodded the stinging flush and rubbed the blood between his fingers. Fixated by the liquid and ignorant of it bleeding further down his cheek, Jason remained silent. He wondered if this is what Dick had felt like that night, after he punched him in the face, deliberately, knowing it would deter him from questioning him further. No, it wasn't the same, because they weren't the same. The dull ache in his chest could not be compared to the look of utter despair Dick had worn that night. Distance was all Jason had wanted to create and violence had been the easier way to gain it. Just as Damian had wanted to knock some sense into him, and had resorted to harmful ways in the end. Because that's who they were, weren't they? Malicious people.

"So ya advocate for peace by usin' violence? Quite the hypocrite, kid."

His words held a truth that moved Damian to his feet, his stool rolling away with the abrupt movement. The men regarded each other carefully. "You've already proven words are not as effective, remember?" Of course he did, it was the sole reason even pacifist Tim went nuts and kicked him to the wall.

"Ya sure it's not because it comes _natural_ to beat some sense into me, _al Ghul_?" Jason inquired with the intention to guilt trip his lover, and it worked visibly as Damian bared his teeth, balled his fists and focussed his energy on the body slam that knocked Jason off his feet and against the wall. Tools shook off their assigned position, making way for Jason's bulky frame and falling to the ground.

Damian held a knife to Jason's throat, his own to be exact. It had taken a well trained eye to have even witnessed him reaching for it before charging at him. Jason had known and had wondered if it would be used against it. Not yet, it seemed.

Adrenaline was coursing through his veins, hightening his senses and his aim. The agitation faded from his body when his eyes rested on the man's cheek where he left a shallow cut. He had allowed Jason to manipulate him, had needed it to find a way to deal with the turmoil that was their relationship. Putting a knife to one of his lover's throat was not an option however, and Damian was overcome with disappointment at the fact his body had thought it was, had put them in this position.

"Damn it," he cursed, ever so softly, a habit Jason had rubbed off on him. He hadn't meant to actually wound him, and now, now Damian wouldn't be any better than the taller man himself, or Tim for that matter. It shone a harsh light on his own lack of control and on the lingering instincts from his League of Assassins childhood.

"This has to stop," the younger man demanded. "This is not a matter of an eye for an eye." He allowed his frustration to manifest into a push against Jason's chest, the impact causing the man's head to bounce off the wall with a thud. Jason didn't wince, but closed his eyes with a resigned sigh.

"It's a work in progress, right?" Jason finally responded by quoting the younger man from the very evening that was haunting them both, keeping them on edge during the day and restless at night.

"I requested Timothy to accept this as part of who we are, yet I find myself disgusted by it," Damian whispered, breaking under the pressure he had been carrying. "How can I expect him to see any different?"

A hand clasped the back of his neck, nudged his head and motivated him to lift his gaze into steady teal coloured eyes. "Whether ya like it or not, relyin' on what ya was taught saved your life and ours many times over." Muscle memory allowed them to kill instantly, made it possible to end a life before it could take their own or that of their lovers.

"I.. know I did wrong by Dick, and I will make up for it, but I accept where it came from. Do you?" He asked the hesitant young adult lowering the knife from his throat.  
A nod. Damian exhaled in a way that reminder Jason of Bruce's attempts at teaching him meditation when he was still Robin. At least it appeared to work for one of them. Damian nodded again, more confident this time.

"Now, can I have my knife back?" Jason asked holding up his hand expectantly.

"Perhaps," Damian muttered throwing the knife and catching it once more, checking its weight and how it felt in his grip. This was a well crafted weapon, he understood why it was Jason's favourite. He showed Jason a little smile, a sign of renewed peace found between them. "After I sharpen it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by:  
>   
> You won't believe this, but I rewrote this piece five times. It took me forever to finish this. It was a horribly slow process. In the end, I decided to make it an addition to the little saga I've written, and shed more light on Damian and Jason's relationship.
> 
> Uhm. So. There's flirting, sort of, the dangerous type :'D I took the liberty to differ from the request more than usual to finally get this piece finished.
> 
> What's next?  
> Want a say in what comes next and add some personal wishes to them?  
> Check out the bingo card in the first chapter and leave a comment in the section below!


	25. Blackmail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 19 of the Bad Things Happen Bingo where DickJayTimDami experience 25 unfortunate events.
> 
> Dick and Jason are still figuring things out in their new relationship, merging their lives and the creepy people in it.
> 
> Rated [M] for language, violence and implied sexual content, DickJay pre-DickJayTimDami ft. implied Sladin (Slade/Dick and Slade/Jay)

The ashtray on the nightstand is dangerously close to spilling its content. Jason's been at it for hours, and Dick knows better than to preach him about the health issues he's getting himself into. Now's not the time to be a smart ass. He does cough at the scratchy feeling in the back of his throat from second hand smoking. The bedroom is tainted by a thin cloak of smog. 

"He means well, Jay, you know he does."

Jason exhales another cloud, flicking ashes from his cigarette. He was this close to cracking the secret behind Black Mask's expanding operation. Batman ruined it with his sense of justice, as usual. 

"I don't care. His nose was in my business, and I don't like it."

"He's concerned about you. You're hanging with a lot of bad people lately. Heck, I'm worried about you, too."

Jason runs an agitated hand through his hair, wipes white strands from his vision. He can accept Dick's plea to be careful and not get himself killed. Those are the words of a lover wanting no harm to befall their partner. The idea that Dick is actually here in his safehouse with the sole reason to guard him from harm, because his heart would break otherwise, is still a new and rare sensation. It makes him nervous, makes his chest clench a bit tighter. This adventure of Dick Grayson and Jason Todd dating makes him laugh at the absurdity of it, how they came to be together. Jason's not a fool however. He knows who is he and what he's capable off. Therefore he's also aware that Dick's opinion of him matters more than he initially thought, otherwise he'd be putting a bullet through Black Mask's head already. So yeah, Dick's wavering eyes and lingering presence to monitor him are okay.

Bruce on the other hand. Well, he is just being an annoying busy-body as usual. Patronizing him, scolding him like he was still in those green scaly panties and pixie boots. Telling him 'that's not how the world works, Jason'. Fuck off. Jason is well aware how things get done, especially in Gotham's underworld.

"I don't need another terrible fuckin' father figure tellin' me what to do," Jason snaps irritated by his own train of thought.

"At least he's still trying," Dick replies exasperated, throwing his hands in the air.

Jason scoffs. "Give the man a medal."

 

Half of the men occupying the bar he sets foot in probably want to off him. He can't blame them, really. The amount of property damage and crippled henchmen he's accounted for is only the tip of the ice berg. Jason doesn't let it bother him, the glares and whispered promises of a slow, painful death. At least inside this bar, no one will dare lay a finger on him. Some sort of code, if he remembers correctly. 

A bulky nobody sitting at the bar turns to him and snarls his vigilante name looking for a fight.

"Try me," Jason taunts him when the thug slips from his stool and towers over him in a menacing manner. "I will _break_ your face."

"Get out or sit your asses down," the bartender bellows, slamming a bottle of rum on the bar he just wiped clean.

The man sits back down and Jason rolls his shoulders back. Now that that's taken care off, he just has to worry for his sorry ass later when setting a foot outside. For now, he concentrates on the man in the corner sipping whiskey by his lonesome.

"You're a hard guy to find, Slade," Jason mentions as he approaches the older man, grabs the back of a chair from another table, flips it around and accompanies him.

"You wouldn't find me if I didn't want you to," the man promises with another sip from his beverage. That one keen eye regards him curiously. "What's Batman's fallen Robin doing here?"

"Recruitin'," Jason answers non-challantly. "Need some dirt on Black Mask."

That seems to capture the mercenary's attention. Slade leaves his drink be and leans back into the cushion the booth provides. His arms are as bulky in his black sweater as they are in his costume. Jason wisely reminds himself that the man is still a serious threat even when in civvies.

"You want dirt or him in the dirt?"

"If I wanted him dead, he'd be six feet under by now," Jason clarifies, but holds his tongue at the eruption of laughter from his companion. Several men surrounding them turn watchful eyes while Slade moves forward and jabs him in the chest none too gently.

"That's a load of bull. You're no mercenary, kid. When's the last time you actually put a bullet through someone's head? You talk the talk, but you don't walk the walk. Batman's got you on a _leash_."

The truth is sometimes hard to swallow. Yeah, he made a promise, but it's no longer Batman's. The agreement to stop the killing, restrain his violent nature and do things by the book might be in line with Batman's ideology (to those who don't truly know him, because Bruce doesn't follow the law quite as often as he should, either), but it's a commitment not to the man who took him in. It is a signal of loyalty and devotion to the man's first prodigy, Dick Grayson. Jason wants Black Mask dead. He has the means to do it, but it's no longer in his moral code to clean up Gotham's trash permanently. There are different ways to bring about Roman Sionis' destruction.

"Ya in or not?"

"Perhaps. What can you offer?"

"Somethin' with five digits should do."

"Hm, tempting, but oh so boring," Slade smirks, flags a waiter down and orders another whiskey on the rocks. "Got anything else worth mentioning?"

A silent moment passes in their conversation, Jason clenching his jaws begrudingly. "What are ya suggestin'?"

The older man wiggles a finger for Jason to come closer. He complies only because he needs to make this bargain work. "Someone told me you're nesting with a blue bird nowadays."

Jason narrows his eyes. He knows Dick and Slade go way back, and the older man has never stopped keeping track of Dick's development. To hear he possesses such private intel however, means danger and red flags galore. "What of it?" He keeps his voice steady while the muscles in his legs starte to tense, ready to dash him out of this place should the need arise.

Slade is making nonsensical motions in the air, pretending to mule over his thoughts as if he wasn't fishing for this option from the start. Sick pervert. "How about.. you share him with me, hm? Ménage à trois sounding far more interesting than cash. I got plenty of that."

Jason bares his teeth, leaning forward into Slade's face and is mighty satisfied to see his spit covering the man's face as he snarls: "Not a fat chance in hell."

An unimpressed but amused eye holds his gaze. "Relax. This is just business, kid. You get what you want, and I get something I want. You can opt to just watch when I'm with him, make sure to witness the pleasure he's given. I won't do him harm he doesn't want. I can give you some tips, even. He's a shameless naughty thing, that one, did you know?"

Something red flashes before his eyes. Slade must have noticed, because he's pulling back but not out of fear. No, that bearded face is splitting into a shit eating grin once more, and he's not done baiting Jason into a bar fight that will certainly get him killed. Bystanders are aborting their private conversations in favour of following theirs, waiting eagerly for a chance to pummel Red Hood to death. Jason cracks his neck in an attempt to not lose his cool.

"Or! Ooooorr... Oh my, I got an even _better_ idea," the man is enjoying himself, that much is clear. "How about **you** tie him up for me tonight, send me the coördinates where to find him, and I don't tell Papa Black Mask that his _son_ is scheming his demise?"

Well _fuck_. He came here to hire a man capable of gathering information to blackmail the criminal into stepping down from taking over Crime alley, not to wiggle himself into a situation where he was going to be a victim of blackmail with Dick's ass on the line. Deathstroke has a vast network worth billions of intel. Figures he knew exactly what Jason wanted from him the moment he stepped into this shady place. Motherfucker is grinning at him like the cat that got the cream. Dick's cream, for crying out loud. Bet he can already taste it, the creep.

Jason fights the urge to lunge the stack of coaster on the table to Slade's head like they are throwing stars. If only they were throwing stars. He's no one's son, not even his scumbag of a father's if he had any say in it. Perhaps he should stop hanging around with older men, or shoot one of them to get the point across he's not up for adoption, again. He allowed Black Mask to think whatever for the sole purpose to stab him in the back.

The waiter returns with the newly ordered drink, places it in front of Slade. The older man needs only one finger to slide the glass with amber liquid towards Jason. Without another word, he lifts his own beverage mid air and awaits Jason's responds.

Their glasses clink. The alcohol burns in his throat.

 

"You did what now?!" Dick exclaims face blotched red from embarrassment and anger.

"I've been workin' this case for seven months. If B hadn't come in and screw things up I wouldn--"

Dick interupts Jason with a quick step to the nightstand, the ashtray and its stumped out cigarette butts littering the floor as he lunges it at Jason. The ashtray itself hits him square in the stomach. Jason wheezes slightly at the impact, but can't take his eyes off of his enraged lover. 

"Bruce isn't the one whoring me out for intel!" He screams, chest heaving irregularly as he is still processing the information. "What were you thinking?!"

The fire in Dick's eyes ignites Jason's own. He huffs, puffs and points accusingly at him. "I was thinkin' I could actually do some good for Crime alley, draw out Black Mask, kick him to the curb without breakin' my promise to ya," he starts and Dick is ready to get right back into the argument, but Jason motions for him to wait. "I aint done yet." His voice lowers in volume and octave, into something dangerous. 

Dick is clearly on high alert, but indulges him. "I also was thinkin' 'bout how ya never truly honest 'bout those marks on your wrists. Ya think I'm an idiot or what?" Jason makes a point of grabbing Dick's lower arms and raising them to bring attention to the red marks that linger there.

"Jason--"

"Ya been seein' him?"

All the pent up frustration exits Dick's body through a deep sigh. Jason can feel how his body becomes heavier in his grip and wonders if he should drop him. He decides to wait for the answer first, make the choice later.

"No. **Yes**. But not like that," Dick answers softly. His usual handsome face is frowning at the floor.

Jason snorts, pushes the man's arms and therefor his body away with such force it makes Dick take a step back to balance himself. "Ya always had the hots for him-- oh _shut up_ , don't even try to deny it, for fuck's sake." 

Dick pulls a pained face, refuses to meet Jason's eyes when he dares the older one to oppose him. Jason retreats to their bed and takes a seat.

"He knows things 'bout ya," Jason reveals with a slight raise of his head to carefully find Dick's uncertain gaze. "Things I didn't even know."

"Why would you believe a word he says," Dick challenges but joins him on the bed, seeking a way to repair the cracks in their bond with intimacy. His touch is cautious upon Jason's back, follows the curve of his spine up to the back of his neck where he latches on, pressures the tense muscles to relax.

"Slade is a lot of things.. but a liar isn't one of them." The presence behind him moves closer until Dick's chest is covering him entirely, like a warm blanket. Arms encircle his throat, a cheek rests atop his crown and moves as Dick inquires about the secrets.

"Jay, listen." His lover's voice is a whisper, testing the water after a moment of tense silence. Jason has yet to acknowledge his ministrations, has accepted them but not reciprocated. He remains quiet, thoughtful.

"Jay."

" _What_." 

"I've been pretty clear with my intentions for our relationship. You know I'm not monogamous, and yes, I have a type and Slade fits it to a certain degree, but there's no way in hell I'm going to sleep with _him_." 

A part of Jason wonders if that's always been the case. Probably not. "Huh, that's exactly what I told him," Jason muses with a quirk of his lips.

Dick tightens his grip around his throat, slides his head down into Jason's peripheral vision. "Say that again?" Dick's voice is sweet, but his smile is not.

"I said there was no fat chance in hell I'd ever agree to his condition. Told him to go screw himself, then I finished the drink and left him with the bill," Jason discloses with a somewhat reluctant laugh at his own actions. The chuckle emerging from his throat is cut short with the increase of pressure from his lover's arms.

"I want to hurt you so badly," Dick whispers into his ear, voice shaking with emotion mostly akin to relief.

"Doin' good so far," Jason wheezes, patting those muscular arms and groaning when his windpipe is freed.

"So you never intended to hand me over to Slade, but you were hurt that I kept it a secret he's been hunting me down lately," Dick muses slipping from Jason's frame and onto the bed like a limp doll, body and mind exhausted.

Jason watches him from over his shoulder. "Not just lately, Dickie. The guy all but started jerkin' himself off at the prospect of gettin' in your pants," he tells his lover blatantly. Dick looks disgusted, but laughs at the absurdity of it. The bed dips as Jason lies down and rests his hands behind his head. Dick is morphing his body to his shape within seconds, placing his head on his chest. One hand Jason releases to caress his lover's head, stroke his fingers through those lucious locks.

"I don't want ya near him," he tells him resolute.

"It's not up to me, Jay," Dick sighs a little, takes his hand and lowers it to his lips.

"Then I will go after him first. Roman can wait," Jason announces determined.

His eyes shift from the ceiling to Dick's baby blues as he lifts his head from his chest, props his torso up on an elbow and shows him a smile. "Are you going to protect me from the big bad man?"

"Imma shoot him," Jason replies with a smug smirk that grants him a swat to his chest.

"As flattered as I am, please don't," his older lover comments crawling up to look down at the frowning lines on Jason's face. He prods at them with gentle fingers. "You never asked me for help with Black Mask," Dick starts pursing his lips in a little pout. "I can be quite resourceful, you know. Get Deathstroke off my back and I can help you take down Black Mask instead."

"Thing is, he's thinkin' of rattin' me out to Roman if I don't sacrifice your booty," Jason explains turning his face to rub his lips against those calloused digits.

Dick tilts his head, playing with the plump flesh that is his lover's lower lip. "There must be something else he wants, something that trumps my fine ass. You don't know him like I do. The man is more complicated than that, actually wants more than a magnificent round of sex."

"Wow, were ya always this humble?" Jason deadpans, reaching up to pinch Dick's smiling cheeks. "Also, exactly that: not just gonna have to get him off your _back_ , babe."

A finger slides across his stubbled jaw, tilts his head back by his chin. "Don't make this weird, honey. We are having a moment here." Dick's lips descend on his in a light press. 

Jason hums into the touch, cups his face. He revels in the instant arousal encouraging his hands to reach down to take a firm hold of his lover's round rump. As their kisses turn open mouthed, hot and slick with tongue, he reminds himself the day will come he'll share this handsome man with another, and another. Fat chance in hell it'll be Slade though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by:  
>   
> Sladin is more popular than I imagined, and I must admit it is fun to write, also because in this time frame of Exquisite I can portray Jason as rougher version of himself, before all the loving he receives in their relationship mellows him out a bit <3
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr btw! I have the same handle there: Lilviscious. Let's be friends and exchange thoughts on our boys ;D
> 
> What's next?  
> Want a say in what comes next and add some personal wishes to them?  
> Check out the bingo card in the first chapter and leave a comment in the section below!


	26. Kick them while they're down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 20 of the Bad Things Happen Bingo where DickJayTimDami experience 25 unfortunate events.
> 
> The Joker is on the loose and Jason promises to stay behind, leave it to his brothers, but they play right into his hand and Jason finds himself having to die again.
> 
> Rated [M] for language, violence and character death, DickJayTimDami ft. The Joker

They are gathered in the Batcave fully suited up at Batman's command. Must be pretty serious whatever the man's about to tell them. Jason doesn't have a clue, but he can tell that Tim does by the unsubtle glances in his direction. Damian is a blank wall, and he's unable to read him, but Dick is easy. It's something to do with him, Jason, and that can mean only one thing. Before Batman can open his mouth and adress them, Jason is kicking at a nearby crate, making it tumble over.

"That fuckin' clown," he growls, seeing red. Batman's jaws tighten and he starts his debrieving without a reaction to his outburtst. Dick's hand grips his bicep, his eyes pleading him not to lose control.

"Let us deal with this, Jay," he asks of him in a whisper, Tim and Damian readying themselves in the meantime. 

"I can handle it," Jason snarls in return.

"We know," Damian answers, handing Tim another knock out dart to pocket in his belt's pouch. "But we're more efficient than you are in this particular situation."

There's nothing he can say, because it's true and so he agrees. "I can stay behind, make sure he doesn't do anything reckless," Tim offers while they prepare their vehicles. Jason rolls his eyes with crossed arms, body language defensive and barely able to contain the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"I won't leave the cave, promise," Jason responds with a mocking salute to Batman's narrowing gaze.

"We'll be back, Jay, we got this," Dick tells him with a determined nod.

Jason keeps his promise and stays behind, monitors his brothers and Batman on the computer's grid. He keeps his word, until they disappear from sight and Jason sees red all over.

The beating is vicious, familiar, pangs of pain as fierce as electricity breaking his skin and bones. Within seconds he identifies the object bruising him, breaking him. There's a slap to his face, a none too gentle one at that. He groans, turns his head away from the assault.

Damian was right. He's too emotionally invested to do this right. Sue him, the bastard killed him. Still, there's no other excuse for his capture.

"Ya done?" he asks and spits blood from his mouth.

"Oh, we are just getting started! You were supposed to be dead, but no, you just had to come back and ruin _everything_!" A grand gesture of arms in the air, a scowl on those bright crimson lips. "All that careful planning, wasted!"

There's a loud, exaggerated sigh, followed by a breezy chuckle.

"So now I've got to do it all over again. The game we're playing tonight is called 'Kill a Robin'," The Joker announces, his grin accompanied by a wink.

He finally opens his eyes, wishes he didn't, because who in the hell ever wants to see that ugly face? Jason opens his eyes only to give him a glare. "I aint playin'," he tells him slowly, dangerously low in volume.

A tilt of a head, pursing lips and a finger tapping a chin in thought. "Don't be such a spoil sport, it'll be fun! Nostalgic, like the good old days! Sans the scaly panties." The Joker rambles, his train of thought accompanied by a wistful look.

"Imma get out of these," Jason tells the manic before him as he flexes his muscles against his restraints, "and then I'mma kill ya." Shoot him in the head, right between the eyes. Yes, that sounds satisfying, just get it over and done with. Fuck the consequences. Bruce will hate him for it, so be it. Dick will be heartbroken because of it, so be it. Tim will give him that look that says he knew all along this was going to happen but won't agree with it, so be it. Damian. Well, Damian will understand, perhaps nod at him, maybe be the only person still wanting to stand by his side. Fuck it. So be it. He can lose a father, some lovers, if it means not losing his sanity. What good will he be to them otherwise?

Those red lips curl upwards, the man clapping his hands excitedly. "Oooh, talk _dirty_ to me! I _love_ it."

They play for hours on end. Jason can't say he likes the game very much. His body aches, several bones broken just like his skin. The little pool of blood on the floor gathering around his feet and the chair he is bound to is solely his, which pisses him off. If only he can get some wiggle room, slip out of these ropes, but no. The clown is relentless, and so is his beating. With every swing of a garage tool, with every new quip of the man, he grows more restless and exhausted at the same time.

Jason's cursing and insults have stopped about five minutes ago. Doesn't mean he's defeated though. "Ya can hurt me all ya want, not gonna do ya any good," he tells the maniac, showing a grin with teeth run red. "Didn't break me the first time, won't happen the second time around."

"No, no, no, that's not how you play the game!" The man crouches with a lowered head, shaking it in disbelief and disappointment. He rests his face in his white gloved hands stained with Jason's blood, peering at his revealed face with a permanent look of amusement. "You're supposed to be begging me a little, show a tear, move the audience! But that's okay. There are other contestants who do know how to play by the rules. Ha ha ha, hee hee!" The glint in his eyes turns nefarious as the red curtain behind him is split in two by a goon wearing a clown's mask, pulling a ratty rope and slowly but surely revealing the seated men bound, gagged and blindfolded. Chances are they have been there from the start and have been listening to his abuse ever since.

Jason's heart skips a beat at the sight of Nightwing, Red Robin and Robin, looking worse for wear. He can make out the bruising on Dick's cheek, the thin trickle of blood from Tim's headwound down to his chin, Damian swaying his head left and right to get his bearings: drugged and disoriented.

"Now," Joker says thoughtfully but obviously giddy about Jason's reaction. "Since obviously dying isn't a big deal to you. Be a good boy and die for _them_ , yes?"

There's a gun lying in front of his feet, his own gun. The clown's goon moves behind him, cuts his ropes. What possesses them to free him, Jason's doesn't concern himself over, because this is a done deal, and the Joker knows it. Jason resists the urge to pounce and strike him if only to not compromise the safety of his brothers. So, killing him a second time isn't going to cut it, huh? He already made his hands dirty, but that's not the end game. The first time Jason died protecting Batman's secret identity, this time Joker wants to see him sacrifice himself for his family.

"Unless you want one of them to go first? Such a gentleman, who ever knew!" Joker suddenly exclaims looking back and forth between his victim and hostages. He claps his hands in delight. The man dances around his chair a moment, lowers his mouth to his ear. "Tough decision to make, hmm? Hee hee hee, let's make a list then! Pros and cons, see which birdy deserves to die most." Jason can't see him, but his presence is terrifying.

"Birdy numero uno won't ever give up on thinking you can play nice, but wasn't at your first funeral, will he care enough to be at your second?"

The criminal's goon takes his time peeling off Nightwing's blindfold. Dick's head lifts at the chance to see how his younger brother is doing, attention drawn from his attempt to break free. Those eyes, although hidden behind white lenses, peer straight into his soul.

Feeling he is unconvinced, the Joker nudges his head a little to the right, eyes shifting to the passive form of Red Robin. The cloth is removed from his eyes also, but they remain closed. His breathing is controled and slowed, as if asleep. Jason wonders if his big brain is at work or if that head injury is more serious that he thought.

"Wow, talk about _rude_! Can't even be bothered to stay awake. Who can blame him though? You did try to kill him many times over for taking your place. And he's pretty good at it, isn't it? So _annoying_ when people do that. How dare they," Joker whispers into his ear with a genuine sound of sympathy for Jason. "Might be able to finally close that chapter if you decide on this one tonight!"

There's little smile adorning Jason's face by the time the clown is finished speaking.

"I made my decision." Jason says interupting whatever the clown is about to say next. It irks the criminal clearly.

"No, no, no! We haven't even gotten to the third bird yet!" The man yells again, stomps a foot to emphasize his displeasure.

Jason knows better than to listen to a word he says, knows Dick regrets not having been there to this very day. Not a chance in hell his #1 babe is going to miss his second funeral, ever. They will be there, all of them. Some mentally more present than others perhaps. Tim a little less, probably, mind stuck on memories of how they transformed from enemies to peers to lovers. The sole reason Jason might not shoot is because it will hurt them, and is he so done being the one to cause harm. Tim carries too many scars with his name on them, and is still willing to be share his life with him. Jason needs more than a lifetime to make up to him, but realizes maybe he never can.

"I said: I made my decision." Jason repeats and crouches, picking up his piece without shifting his eyes from the man's pale face. He presses the barrel of his gun underneath his own chin, removes the safety catch. Huh. So this is what it felt like for all those thugs he threathed to shoot.

The Joker gives an exaggerated gasp, clasping his own face with both hands. "Haven't you read the script? This is where we go back and forth: you threaten me, I threaten one of the birds, you threaten me even more, I kill one of them to show I'm serious -- _are you even listening_?!" Joker bellows with arms in the air, looking around at his goons with an incredulous look. "Such an amateur, who casted this kid?" he adds with grave disappointment.

Their gags are removed next. Dick's voice is filling the crowded space instantly with his concerns and pleads not to do it, as expected. "Don't do it, Hood! He's going to kill us anyway if you do this, it's not worth it. Listen to me! Lower the gun, for God's sake. Little Wing! _Hey_!"

Tim's eyes finally open and they are clear, steady, no sign of a concussion present as he shakes his head once at him. It sparks hope within him, thinking Tim might have come up with a plan B in the meantime. B standing for Batman, probably. But yeah, Jason died waiting on the man once.

Fortunate thing is, they will understand his decision. There will be tears and insults, leave it to Damian to cover that area, but there will be also respect for his decision and the same look Damian's giving him right now. Admiration, a display of gratitude that he is willing to take his life to ensure theirs.

Unlike Tim, Damian nods at him. "This is not farewell," Damian says certain of himself, and Jason allows himself to wonder what it means, because he isn't too sure if Damian was at any place at all when he died, or if he simply floated in endless darkness like he did.

"Alright, fine, we're going off script. I can't complain, I love improv," Joker catches his attention once more, but has made it to the other side of the room where he caresses a lever endearingly. "I still have a trump card up my sleeve in case you try and be funny, anyway. Shall we do a count down, all together?"

Not a word the man speaks registers as he watches his brothers, notices the flexing of Dick's arms bound behind his back, trying to cut through the rope. Should he stall some more, Jason hesitates. Will it make a difference?

The man's goons share gleeful looks, clapping their hands to the count down from ten to one.

"Three!" They sing merrily.

Dick can't hold his stare, but is struggling in earnest to get to him while Tim has diverted his gaze to watch his oldest brother groan in desperation. Jason can see his lips moving in the slightest, speaking so softly even the thugs behind them are oblivious to it. They have no eyes for Nightwing as meets Red Robin's gaze, jerks in his seat and nearly tumbles over, chair and all. Robin looks over at his brothers shortly, straightening in his own seat, getting ready.

"Two!"

Damian is willing to watch him die. Jason huffs a little, not too surprised. Doesn't mean he loves the others any less. He doesn't want their last sight of him to be this grotesque, but life's shitty like that.

"One!"

It takes little pressure to pull the trigger. Jasons realizes he has shut his eyes, frowns as it dawns on him that he shouldn't be having any more thoughts on this matter. The click didn't come with a bang.

"Ha...! HAHAHAHA!!" The Joker points at him with tears in his eyes, enjoying his moment of confusion thoroughly. "You think I'd give you a _loaded_ gun?! Oh this is precious!"

The henchmen join the laughter, bending over as they are overcome by sadistic joy. Dick visibly deflates in his restraints, cheeks wet with tears in relief. Jason doesn't have time to respond, because Red Robin is calling for him through the commotion.

"Gun! Throw it to my left!" He is yelling over and over until Jason listens. He is a marvelous marksman, so hitting a bulky thug in the head with an empty gun is nothing special, but it sets Tim's plan in motion perfectly. Jason watches baffled as the world moves in fastfoward. 

The henchman groans and actually tumbles over, taking Damian and his chair with him. The furniture breaks, rope loosening quickly. Their youngest is on his feet within a second, apprehending the other men while confiscating the knife from the fallen thug holding his head on the ground. 

Tim's bounds are cut and he dashes forward towards Jason. "Get N," he tells him as he passes him, Jason turning to watch him give chase to a retreating Joker shrieking in a combination of pleasant surprise and terror. The man throws his arms in the air and manages to dodge every birdarang Red Robin pulls from his pouches. Jason does as he is told once more, freeing their oldest and indulging in the tight embrace Dick pulls him in straight away.

"What are you doing?! Get him!" Robin yells when Red Robin ceases his chase in favour of guarding the lever on the wall.

"Not the priority," Red Robin tells him, reaching for the streak of blood and the wound to his head. "Getting out alive is all that matters." And Jason realizes he needs medical attention maybe more than he does. Sure, he has broken a rib or four, his nose as well, but he will survive.

Dick refuses to let go, so Jason basically drags him over to where Damian and Tim are arguing amongst themselves. 

"That was reckless," Damian complains with grit teeth.

"I knew it wouldn't be loaded. I was only concerned about that lever," Tim tells them when they join them.

"Really now? How certain were ya?" Jason asks taking the moment to pull him in and hold him in a tight hug, press a kiss to that brilliant head of his. Dick makes room for the addition, smiling through red eyes and sighing to release tension.

"About 92,25%," Tim reveals in a mumble against his brother's chest.

Damian pulls a face, but takes Jason's hand as he reaches for their youngest. "That still left 7,75%." He squeezes the bigger hand.

Tim pulls back from the embrace and offers them a crooked smile. "Jason was willing to take the risk. So was I."

"Well, I wasn't!" Dick complains loudly, evidently upset and on edge. Their oldest regards them one by one, eyes watering once more. He settles on Jason and pulls him close by his nape to kiss him hard. Blood transfers from Jason's mouth to Dick's lips which Jason wipes away after the kiss ends. "You promised to stay behind," Dick reminds him gently.

Jason shrugs, eyes softening as he looks at the damage they've all taken. "You promised to come back."

Outside they find the Joker wiggling on the ground, grunting and chuckling underneath the pressure of Batman's boot to his face. His arms are bound behind his back, the sirens of Gotham's PD nearing in the background. Batman diverts his attention from his nemesis to his sons and clenches his jaws at the tattered sight of them. 

"Go home, all of you," he tells them, shifting his weight to make the Joker groan a little bit harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by:  
>   
> This took a while because I had to channel my inner Joker and figure out how to make it suspenseful without actually getting one of them killed, because that's not how I want this series to continue lol Thanks for this prompt however, because it challenges me and adds more interesting characters to the story!
> 
> What's next?  
> Want a say in what comes next and add some personal wishes to them?  
> Check out the bingo card in the first chapter and leave a comment in the section below!


	27. I will only slow you down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 21 of the Bad Things Happen Bingo where DickJayTimDami experience 25 unfortunate events.
> 
> Damian doesn't do anything half-hearted, especially when it comes to protecting Dick.
> 
> Rated [T], DickDami focus within DickJayTimDami

The ground was wet beneath his feet from the pouring rain, causing him to slip and fall to one knee. The weight on his back stirred into consciousness to which he was grateful. Damian allowed himself a moment to rest, to steady his breathing and collect his thoughts. Obviously things had not progressed according to plan and now Damian and Dick were prey instead of predators.

"Richard, are you alright?" Damian asked gently despite the trickle of irritation at the man's choice of action that caused this mess of a situation.

A head lifted from his shoulder, a nose bumped against his ear, tickled it. Damian resisted a shiver and repeated the question.

"Yeah.. you?" Dick managed to ask getting to his senses.

"I'm fine, but we have to continue moving," Damian stressed mostly to convince his weary body that recess was over. With a grunt he pushed himself astraight, boots sinking deeper in the mud and unbalancing him. Dick fisted the front of his costume, arms tossed around his neck.

"This is crazy, Dami. Let me down and I'll hide," Dick suggested when taking notice of the struggle he was putting his lover through. Chances were slim they could make it back to camp together without getting caught.

"I refuse," Damian growled through bared teeth.

"I can't go on, Dami. And neither can you, not like this."

"Nonsense, this is not the end."

"You can be honest with me, little D. I will only slow you down."

"You always have, this is no different. Now stop complaining."

Dick managed a mixture between a sigh and a laugh. "Still such a brat," he mumbled fondly, nuzzling Damian's hair and resting his head against his. "Listen, baby. Leave me behind, I beg of you."

"For the last time, beloved: shut up." Damian jostled the older man on his back, shifting his weight to get a better grip on the man's thighs. This was simply a minor setback. They had overcome worse and would not be beaten today. Dick had protected him ever since he was a child, no matter the situation. Damian widened his stance and inhaled deeply. It was time to return the favour.

"They're closing in on us. I can feel it," Dick whispered ominously into his ear. 

Cautious, Damian halted his silent stalking through the damp forest to strain his ears. The sun had set two hours ago, cloaking them in darkness to which his eyes had fully adjusted by now. Still, the men after them knew better than to venture about in the open. Damian nearly dismissed his brother's comment when no sounds befell his ears, until a voice not too far from his right announced their presence.

"Well, well, well, ya were right, darlin'." A bulky man beating them in height stepped forward, followed by a smaller and lighter frame.

"Aren't I always, dear?" The second man replied smugly, crossing his arms as they stared them down.

Damian narrowed his eyes, felt Dick's arms tighten around his neck. He couldn't possibly fight them off by his lonesome with Dick's sprained ankle and bump on the head rendering him mostly useless in a fight. Fortunately keeping him close to his figure did cover what the duo was after. It was the second reason Damian would not abandon Dick. If his lover couldn't be a fighter, he would be a guardian instead.

"You have to run Dami," Dick whispered to him, urging him on.

"Never," the youngest responded without pause.

"Aw, cute." The tallest commented clasping his hands together in mock endearment.

"And pointless," the other added, and together they stepped into the clearing of the forest where moonlight illuminated their features.

"Listen to Dickie, kid. This game is ours," Jason announced with a wolfish grin, tugging Tim to his side with an arm around his shoulders. 

"Drop him, hand over the patch on your back and no one gets hurt," Tim offered him leaning against Jason's body leisurely. 

The amount of confidence oozing from the duo made his lips snarl. Dick wiggled on Damian's back, lifting his foot with a sour face. "Too late for that," he complained wincing at the sharp pain that travelled all the way up to his spine. He rubbed at the swollen skin of his forehead. "Which one of you two dug that hole anyway?"

Jason grabbed Tim's head and pressed a kiss to it. "I did, but it was his idea. Teamwork, right Timbers?" Tim only hummed into the affectionate gesture, giving Dick a lopsided smile that showed he was sorry, kind of.

"Mean! The rules say we can't use or build weapons of any kind!" Dick protested, raising a fist in demonstration.

Tim pressed a hand to his chest and turned innocent eyes to Jason. "Did we do such a thing?"

Jason mirrored the motion, looking affronted by the accusation. "I only dug a hole, covered it with some greens. What idiot would fall in and call it a weapon?"

"Alright, that's enough you two," Dick called physically deflating on Damian's back looking both amused and annoyed at the same time. "I hate it when you team up in earnest, you're no fun. It's just a game."

"No, it's not," Damian disagreed suddenly and took off with a sprint that surprised the duo. Rushing them in between the green, over roots and fallen trees, underneath low hanging branches, Damian concentrated on rhythmic breathing instead of the burn in his calfs.

"As impressed as I am, you can drop me now, get to the finish line for sure," Dick called hanging on while looking back over his shoulder at the shadows of their other lovers trailing them with increasing speed.

"I made a promise, Richard," Damian reminded him catching the astonished look from his oldest lover through the corner of his eyes. "We would be victorious _together_ or not at all." 

He had meant to sound heroic and romantic, perhaps with a pinch of suave. It worked, Damian could tell, because Dick was looking at him like he wanted to snog his face off. He smirked shortly. Thing was, Dick couldn't contain himself sometimes and now certainly wasn't the time to lose control. Damian yelped when his face was caught in two hands and forcibly turned into a suffocating kiss. Without a sense of direction he was forced to stop, but still stumbled over a collection of roots and rocks, knocking them over.

"Kid knows his stuff, I swooned a little," Jason commented with a laugh as he and Tim caught up with the pair of men laying on the forest floor. Damian had given up by now, allowing Dick to pull him on top and spread his lips with his tongue to french him out of breath.

"It's true. I'm a bit jealous," Tim admitted slauntering over with curious eyes as he observed the intensity of their kiss. He reached for Damian's head and ran his fingers through his short hair, then lowered it to his back where he peeled the Robin patch from his clothing. Lifting it between two fingers, he held it for Jason to see. From the pocket of his jacket, Jason retrieved the one they had taken from Dick's back earlier and grinned at his teammate.

"We won," he announced nudging an unenthused Tim.

"Yeah," the smaller man replied, unable to not watch Dick eat Damian's face and massage his scalp in the meantime. The sounds they were making increased in volume by the second. Tim pouted a little as Jason kissed his head once more. "Doesn't look like it though."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by:  
>   
> I felt cheeky and wanted the boys to show a bit more playful side. Still, Damian and being playful isn't a mix that comes naturally, so of course even when playing a game he will go at it in earnest and his genuine feelings show. Such a good kid, huh?


End file.
